








& ^ 



* ^ 



^ o „ o A 





















~V .t#p. **k J&> 6 o««. *£>. rt V .t<* 





* o«^"«.% 



.<* . 







K* 



H ^ -■ 



♦* *♦ .Vflfcr. %* : ^££°. %^ 



W 



■*<,■ 






vv 






y o 



*- " oV * 



<r ,' 



*. ^o" 



^ - 













s?^ 



<> **TV«* <0 T 



c° v .c^* °o 







4* v .'j;'. v *, ' «*" -"* 



- "of 







G°V 




ip^nm^ &¥im s®sm 



Torino an* &ong£ ; 



3Y 



&&3Z3I3 usiasrsnBiD&j) 



SANQUHAR. 



THE SECOND EDITION, 

$eiu$e& an& (Corrects, fo(t£ numeroujS 3tofrtiton0. 



DUMFRIES : 

FEINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY N. M { L. BRUCE, 

26, QUEENSBERRY SQUARE. 

1824. 



* 



GIFT 
I CDC* JAMES S. CHSLDERS 
* ""**•*. ifULY 26, 1944. 




TO 

HENRY VEITCH, ESQ, 

THE FOLLOWING PAGES 

ARE 

RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, 

BY HIS MUCH OBLIGED 

AND HUMBLE SERVANT, 

THE AUTHOR. 



x 3 



IP!B3!IP*<&®IE 



In an age when Poesy, like a mighty torrent, hatli 
deluged the land, — when so many eminent authors 
have appeared upon the stage of the world, whose 
works will be revered, and memories cherished, by 
succeeding ages, — there are individuals who may be 
apt to say of Poesy, " We have quite enough, — why 
impose one volume more upon the public ?" — To 
which I would reply — Does not every one sing his 
own streams, woods, and plains ? Does not even lo- 
cality give a kind of merit to those pieces, which 
would otherwise appear dull and tasteless ? Do not 
the inhabitants of those scenes induce the Bard to 
commit his productions to the perusal of a censorious 
public ? 

It might have been deemed both superfluous and 
impertinent if the author of the following pages had 
been the first to take the field after the immortal 



▼lit 

Burns ; but since so many of minor note have pre- 
ceded him, why not commix in the hive? At an 
early period of his life, he often cast a side-long glance 
at those shy nymphs, the Muses; and perhaps the 
public may think they have been very sparing of their 
favours. Be that as it may, lie sometimes composed 
a few stanzas for his own amusement, which only had 
publicity amongst a few associates, who either had, 
or seemed to have, a pleasure in them. The whole 
of his productions, most likely, had never gone farther, 
had it not been for the solicitation of a few gentlemen, 
friends, and acquaintances, by whose importunity he 
would now lay a few of those pieces, which were, 
originally, only the amusement of his leisure hours, 
before an indulgent public. Should they meet with a 
favourable reception from his numerous subscribers, 
(many of whom are persons of property, and advanced 
to eminent situations in Hie,) it would hush his fears, 
and be commensurate with, the most sanguine expec- 
tations of a diffident author and humble Eard. 



contents; 



Page 

An Address to the Old Castle of Sanquhar, 13 

Verses hastily composed at- the Sanquhar Ploughing 

Match, 10th March, 1819 16 

The Prowess of Caledonia. — An Epic Poem, ... «« 20 

An Epistle to Mr M' , relating a Curling Match 

betwixt the parish of Crawfordjohn and the parish of 

Sanquhar, ,. ... 27 

Miss C 's Lament on her Lover's going to America, 31 

An Epistle to Mr Pv— P— , Dumfries, 4th June, 1819,... 35 

Vulcan's Amorous Adventure ... 3? 

Lines on the Marriage of , 25th January, 1820 ... 38 

On the Standard-bearer of a Scottish Highland regiment, 

who fell at the battle of Waterloo, 39 

An Address to the Scotch Thistle encircling the Castle 

of Sanquhar, &c. ... 41 

Willie and Annie, 42 

AuldS 'sEiegy 48 

An Ode, sacred to the Memory of Charles William, late 

Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry, 50 

Elegiac Verses to the Memory of the Author's Father... 53 

An Ejaculatory Prayer 54» 

Reflections on the New Year, occasioned by the death 

of the Author's youngest Son ... , 5$ 



Pag? 
Verses composed on reading the news of the death of 
our much-beloved and deeply regretted Sovereign, 

King George the Third 59 

To a Young Friend, on presenting the Author with a 

Ticket to Sanquhar Library, ... ... 60 

The short-lived Joys of Willie Hastie.— A true Tale, ... 63 
Mungie Clark's Funeral. — A Satire on the mode of fu- 
neral entertainment, ... 66 

Elegy on Mungie Clark, late travelling merchant, ... 73 

An Epistle to G W , Esq. 79 

Crawick-Mill.— A Poem, 62 

The Complaint and Petition of Elliock Bridge, &c. ... 85 

Elliock Wood Dryad, in continuation of the foregoing, 89 

A Turkish Tale^in two Cantos, 91 

Sentiment, spoken extempore in a public company, on 

his Majesty's return from Ireland, 1821, 95 

Lamentation, death, and dying words of a black-faced 

Mountain. Ewe .« ... ... 96 

Lines addressed to a Young Woman on her receiving 

baptism at the age of sixteen 99 

Lines on witnessing. the death of a beloved Child ... 101 

Lament for William Johnstone of Roundstonefoot ... 103 
Sanquhar's Lament for the loss of their Pastor, the Rev. 

MrR , ... ., 106 

An Ode on the death of Mrs — — - ... ... ... 107 

Epicedium on Miss E W , 110 

Presbyterian Dream ... ^.. ... ... ... Ill 

Lines occasioned by James Glencairn Burns requesting 
a quart bottle of the punch drunk at the Anniversary 

of his Father's Birth-Day Club 115 

Epitaphs tv lM w ., 117 



X! 



Page 

The agreeable Mistake ... ... ... 119 

Wallace's Martial Success, and Accidental Gratification 121 

Adventure of King James the Fifth — in two Cantos ... 128 

Fleeming's Dream ... » 137 

Lines on opening the New Splendid Gothic Church of 

Sanquhar ... ;„ ,.. „. ... ... ... 140 

The Bachelor's Soliloquy 141 

To Mr T , Holm, gamekeeper to his Grace the 

Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry 146 

To my Old Shoes, in which I had travelled soliciting 
Subscribers, and delivering the first Edition of my 

Poetical Volume ... , 147 

An Epistle to John Johnstone, a Brother Poet 150 

A Sketch of the Author's Journey (whilst soliciting Sub- 
scribers,) from Whithorn to Port-William, on the 31st 

of May, 1824 ... .» 155 

Verses on the Author's recovering-a Copy of Fergusson's 

Poems, which he had lost for some years 155 

Epistle to James Kennedy, Sanquhar, on reading the 

First Edition of his Poems and Songs .„ ... 156 

SONGS. 

The Plough—" When the sound of the shell," &c. ... 161 

The Banks of Wamphray — ^Beneath the gr3en hazel," 163 

The bonny Lass o s Annan W T ater — "The fairest," &c... 164 

Davie's Farewell — " Farewell thou green valley," &c... 165 

The bonny Lass o' the West Kintrie — " Some tempt," &c. 1 6Q 

Eastern Jenny — " My Jenny's young," &c 167 

The Snaw on Mennock Glen lies deep — "The snaw ," &c. 169 

The Flower of the Sol way — " From Paisley to Annan," &c. 1 70 

' Elliock Wood sae bonny O— " Glintin o'er," &c. ... 171 



XJI 



fconny Mary, or the Glen of Glennap — " On travelling," &c. 17k 

Katy o' Castle Woodlee— " By yon shady grove," &c... 174 

Life's Moon is a waning — " Life's moon," &c 175 

Eskdale loA-ely Jean — " On purling Esk," &c, 177 

The Banks of Yochan — " Well met my dear Jean," &c. 178 

"Wallace's Lament — " Thou flower of my bosom," &c. 179 

Banksof the Crawick — " > T ow autumn waves yellow," &c. 160 



POEMS. 



AN ADDRESS 

To the Old Castle of Sanquhar. 

Hail ! hail ! ye mouldering ruins grey, 

The iron teeth of time deforms 
Thy pristine glory, grand and gay, 

Still struggling with the winter storms. 

Yet all these storms thou mighfst have brav'd, 

A castle firm and fair to see, 
Had tyrant man thy roof but sav'd, 

Nor of thy honours rifled thee. 

In better days, thy massive walls, 

To strength of hands, were forc'd to yield ; 
Each lime-bound turret, crumbling, falls, 

In manure o'er the cultured field. 

B 



14 



Thy gardens fair and alleys green, 
And aqueducts, no trace have left ; 

Tradition points where they have been, 
Of use and beauty all bereft. 

When 'gainst the Scot?, for Scotia's Crown, 
King Edward warred in mortal strife, 

The Douglas brave, oThigh renown, 
There robb'd the Southrons of their life.' 

The war fields then ran red in blood, 
When Scotia fought for liberty; 

The spell word rung* afar and loud 
Now, brethren, death or victoiy; 

Thanks to the pow'rs, the glittering sword 

Was wip'd from wars ensanguined stain- 
That, unmolested, Sanquhar's lord 
Within his castle might remain. , 

Tradition here presents a scene ; 

King James's coach appears in new, 
Fleet rolling o'er the Castle green, 

Attended with his retinue. 

And as they pass'd the festoon'd gate, 
Profusive cost and honour join { 

The golden wheels were stain'd and we*, 
The horses hoofs were bath"d in wine. 



15 



The feast, the ball, glad music's ring, 

The joy suffus'd their faces o'er, 
Beseem'd their host, beseem'd their King, 

And fitted to the days of yore. 

The line of Crichtons you may trace, 
The Lords of Sanquhar, Barons bold; 

And still as race succeeded race, 
The Castle was their home and hold. 

Tho' fate has pluck'd the lineal tree 
From Nitha's flow'ry banks so fair, 

It flourishes in high degree 
At Dumfries-house, in shire of Ayr, 

A comely sprig, the prodigy 

Of Nature, o'er the world wide, 
For classic lore and chivalry, 

Old Scotland's boast, the Crich ton's pride. 

In foreign lands, in pitch' d dispute, 
In foreign tongues so prompt was he 

Their literati to confute, 
And bear the palm of victory. 

His body active as bis mind, 

Where sports and pastimes, there was he ; 
Surpassing all of human kind, 

For feats of great agility. 
b2 



16 



But as the cloudless winter sun 

Soon sinks beneath the western shore; 

His bright career was quickly run ; 
The curtain dropt to rise no more. 

Oh ! had he fallen in equal strife, 
Less deeply Scotia had deplored, 

But he who should have sav'd his life, 
Unnoticed raised the trait'rous sword ! * 

Again all hail ye ruins grey ! 

Ye gardens once so fair to see ! 
Now sadly fallen to decay, 

Sic transit gloria mundu 



VERSES HASTILY COMPOSED 

At the Sanquhar Plowing Match, 10th March, 1819. 

Ye generous Britons, venerate the plough, 

And o'er your hills and long withdrawing vales 

Let Autumn spread her treasures to the sun. Thomson 

Glint in' sweet the morning smiled, 

Seedtime it was drawing near, 
Busy labour time beguiled, 

Ploughmen for the match prepare. 

*~See the Life of the Admirable Crichron. 



17 

Breakfast by, an' a* in fettle, 

Plongbmen lads without delay, 
To try their own and others mettle, 

Hurry to the field away. 

Wi* tentie care the riggs were meted, 
Tickets for the lots were drawn ; 

The willing steeds now fretting waited 
Breast the yoke and down the lan\ 

Look down, O Ceres, frae the lift, now 
Fourteen ploughs the glebe upturn ; 

To gain the prize the ploughman's drift, now 
Thine to raise the bending corn. 

Shining sleek,, the new made furrow, 

Cut by rule, and laid wi* care ; 
Nae scene in country town or borough. 

Can wi' this rural scene compare. 

Mony a ane is here to see it, 

Agricultural judges prime, 
Ne'er a ane is mair delighted, 

Than the author o' this rhyme. 

Prizes now maun be awarded, 

Some preferred afore the rest ; 
Ilka ane should be rewarded, 

Doubtless they hae done their best,. 
b 3 



18 



Fare ye weel, auld Scotia's stanners, 
Ilka ane tak's his ain road ; 

Your toast the tell-tale echo maanners, 
A health to him wha tarns the clod.* 

^ttpnlemtnt. 

Now the landlord and the tenant 

Lagged little time behin', 
'Cording to a pre- engagement, 

Met in Sanquhar's foremost Tnn ; 

Where a dinner het and reeking, 
Crowns the daintith cover'd board ; 

Invitation nane is seeking 

To the cheer might please a lord. 

When the table-cloth's removed, 
Sparkling glasses ranged in rows, 

Round the bowls by a' approved, 
Whence the Kippen Toddy flows. 

On Nitha's vale in town or village, 
Never was there met before, 

To inspect and mend her tillage, 
Sic a blyth and merry core. 



• Alluding to a health often drunk in a tent adjacent totbe- 
match field, 



w 

Care is charmed as a spectre, 
Toasts are drunk in bumpers fuV 

Frae the king that sways the sceptre, 
To the hind that hauds the plough. 

Pleasure, like the shadow fleeting, 
Shook her votaries frae her wing, 

Wha proposed another meeting, 
On the next ensuing spring. 

Night had drawn her sable curtain, 
Ploughmen lads wi' social glee, 

To the change-bouse blythe resorting, 
Quaff th' inspiring barley-bree. 

As our heroes 'yond the ocean, 

Fiercely fought in France and Spain.; 

Return'd— -in fancy's warmest notion, 
Often fight these fields again. 

As the stag-pursuing sportsman 
Overtakes the destin'd prey. 

To hame, to wine, and mirth resorting, 
Recounts the pleasures of the day. 

So our lads recount the contest, 
Nane I think had cause to gloom ; 

When the oustripped anes were blest, 
Wi 1 thretty pence aneath their thcun'. 



20 



But hark ! the clock proclaim'd it late, 
They paid their shot, and bade gude'em 

Rib-linket lads to their ain mate, 
And some unto their bonnie Jean. 



THE PROWESS OF CALEDONrA, . 

AN EPIC POEM. 

INSCRIBED TO THE SANQUHAR HIGHLAND SOCIET7. 

Recited by one of the members of said Society, within the precincts of 
the old Castle of that place at their Anniversary Meeting, 7th July, 1823'. 



Q.NE evening in the month of May, 

To winding Nith T bent my way, 

To taste the sweets of solitude, 

By crystal fount and spreading wood. 

My roving eye the scene survey'd 

In nature's mantle rich array "d ; 

My heart was touch *d so feelingly, 

— So thrili'd the soul of minstrelsy — . 

Entranc'd in thought I gazed around, 

When lo ! I heard sweet music's sound 

Slow rising from an hazel grove, 

The haunts of sylvan nymphs and love. — 

My listening ear my steps inclii'd 

The minstrel's leafy bower to find ; 

Whose notes so well my heart could please. 

Borne gently on the western breeze. — 



21 



Beneath an elm -tree aged, hoar, 
With birken leaves half cover'd o'er, 
Begrit with thorn and prickly brier, 
By patient search I found the Lyre 
To sylvan nymphs by bard bequeathed, 
With many a flow'ret wild enwreath'd, 
With that fair tree whereon it hung, 
And oft they had his requiem sung ; 
At evening calm or morning fine, 
Their song seem'd bordering on divine. 
At other times the strains they play'd 
Resembled eastern serenade. — 
This ancient relic, still so dear, 
Was often strung in days of weir, 
To sing the deeds of Sanquhar's Lord, 
Whose minstrel knew each varying chord, 
Evoking such enlivening sounds 
As rous'd the warrior in his wounds ; 
And oft within the grand saloon, 
The ladies would their voices tune, 
Warbling each air the heart can move, 
And melt the warrior's soul to love. — 
The milk maid on the flowery plain, 
Oft join'd the soft bewitching strain ; 
When fanning zephyrs gently blew, 
The notes would die and wake anew — 
While shepherds on the mountain green, 
Filled up each dving pause between. 



22 



As o'er the flute their fingers stray'd, 

The ewes have frisk'd, the lambkins play'd ; 

With hoarser note the lusty steer 

Made up the concert in the rear. 

When midnight winds thy numbers swelPd, 

The Fairy tribes their gambols held. 

In green-wood shaw 'neath Luna's light, 

These blythesome genii pass'd the night; 

So neat, so light, they trip'd it round, 

They scarcely seemed to touch the ground.— = 

Soon as the morning grey appear'd, 

The early lark in ether reared, 

Gave nature's Author hymns of love, 

To wake the songsters of the grove ; 

The blackbird and the shrilly thrush, 

Now sweetly sang on many a bush ; 

And swift through air were flocking throng, 

More tuneful tribes to join the song ; 

Some soft and sweet, some bold and sharp, 

Kept concert with this ancient harp. 

Thou lonely dweller of the brake, 

Assist my strain, awake, awake ! 



When brave Caledonia from old ocean rear*d 
Her wild land of freedom, no tyrant she fear'd ; 
Near foaming cascades, and loud sounding fountains. 
Mid grim tow'ring piles and wood fringed mountains. 



23 



§orue earthquake primeval had poised a rock, 

With its rude daise of granite, and umbrage of oak ; 

A seat so fantastic she chose for her throne, 

She ruled there undaunted and reigned aloue. 

Old Odin, her grandsire, as test of his care, 

Sent down from his Hall the bright gleaming Claymore ; 

Which erst shone afar o'er our northern realm, 

Aurora Borealis, or streamer of flame. — 

Our ancient forefathers, so famed for their glore, 

lir-st fought with that brand 'gainst despoilers of yore ; 

A broad bossy shield and charter he drew, 

And Liberty's halo around them he threw ; 

That shield was their bulwark when fiercely in war 

They drove the oppressors from Albyn afar ; 

Their charter established their rights and their power 

From Tweed's fertile vale to St. Kilda's lone shore ; 

The Thistle gigantic to them he bequeathed, 

And on their broad banner the symbol he wreathed ; 

Long quiet they lived by the fleece and the soil, 

Yet strangers to rapine and war's weary toil ; 

In the chace they delighted, and oft would pursue 

O'er mountain and valley the fleet bounding roe. 

A host of invaders from Adria's strand, 

Amongst other conquests had seiz'd on our land ; 

Their standard they reared on each blue misty hill, 

Where a thousand pure fountains their waters distil ; 

But the claymore, and buckler, and long spear of flame, 

Soon taught those oppressors their wild rage to tame : 

A broad grave they gave them, all gory their shroud, 

And tyranny's front to fair liberty bow'd.-- 



M 



When the hero of Morven, the famous Finga!, 

Took the mail of his fathers from Selma's bright halh 

And led his brave legions to death or to fame, 

The bold usurpation of Cairbhar to tame ; 

He couched his spear, struck the boss of his shield, 

And beckoned his warriors forth to the field ; 

For liberty's cause they relinquished their home, 

To Erin's green isle o'er the white briny foam ; 

Tbey met and encounter'd, and conquer'd the foe, 

For the dread sword of Fingal gave no second blow : 

The king of old Erin he legally crown'd, 

And the hero of heroes returned renown'd. 

While Morven's fair dames strewed flowers on the sward. 

In concert they sung to the notes of the bard ; 

Their song so triumphant all sorrow beguil'd, 

And deep-toned music rung far o'er the wild, 

Through a long flight of ages a courage inspires 

The bosom of sons from such dignified sires, 

To death or to glory how fearless they go, 

Who never had fled from the face of a foe. 

At the red heath of Largs, and Luncartie's lea, 

Showed courage undaunted and high chivalry ; 

The Cumbrians, Norwegians, and proud haughty Danes, 

Were hewed by their swords on the red battle plains. 

When England's proud sons thought to vanquish our land. 

Brave Wallace for freedom and Scotland did stand, 

Our country's defender, our pride and our boast, 

Who sav'd her from ruin when all had been lost ; 

A leader so valiant, so famed, and renown'd, 

Oft returnM from the war- field with victory crown'd. 



26 



X> curs'd be the traitor that palsied the hand, 
That scattered such blessings o'er Scotia's loved land. 
To Bruce, his companion in atms, let us turn, 
And glance at the actions of dread Bannookburn ; 
Though fair rose the morning on streamlet and plain, 
Ere night they were dyed with the blood of the slain. 
The king on a palfrey was cheering his men, 
When basely assail'd by Sir Henry de Bohun; 
He eluded the spear, with his axe gave a stroke, 
Like the thunder of Heaven which rendeth the oak, 
When prone on his shoulders his head lay in twain, 
He fell from his war-horse the first of the slain. 
O'evlooking the valley, at distance not far, 
Gleam'd Anglian host in their trappings of war, 
Who view'd from their station and view'd with disdain 
The little Scots army arrayed on the plain; 
St. Ninian's Abbot bis blessing had given ; 
Their mound of defence was the bulwark of Heaven. 
The soul-rousing pibroch in war's maddening tone, 
Bade the heroes their war- files to battle lead on. 
They met like two oceans, bat who can pourtray 
The clashing of arms in the dreadful affray; 
The despotic army, so vaunting before, 
Lay strewed on the war field, and shrouded in gore; 
But few left survivors but few to return, 
Whose tale caus'd the widow and orphan to mourn. 
Evan Raston, their minstrel, sang England's downfall, 
His life to procure and relieve him from thrall ; 

c 



26 

While brave Brace's banner victoriously waved, 

From bondage his country in battle bad saved. 

These grey mouldering ruins of time fretted stone, 

Recal to our memory the days that are gone, 

When Douglas the valiant, as authors record, 

Put his despotic foes to the point of the sword. 

Though swift rolling ages may here intervene, 

Their lapse now presenteth a more pleasant scene, 

When strife so destructive was brought to a close, 

And Scotia's famed Thistle joined England's fair Rose; 

The Shamrock of Erin, by war, look'd aghast, 

And wreathed with the Rose and the Thistle at last. 

The sons of these kingdoms their valour retain, 

As witness the war-fields of France and of Spain. 

Permit me to mention, for brevity, two. 

The blood-crimson'd Egypt and famed Waterloo, 

When the meek-eyed maid with brows olive bound. 

Shed the balo of Peace o'er the nations around. 

May the banner of Freedom triumphantly wave. 

And our sons yet unborn be the sons of the brave. 

The Thistle of Scotia, the Shamrock, and Rose, 

Be the boast of their friends and the dread of their foes. 



Ere from my station T retire, 
foregoing Caledonia's lyre, 
My country's boast, my country's pride. 
By me but vain and feebly tried ; 
Hope, sanguine hope, doth joy impart, 
And cheers my else desponding heart. 



27 



Perhaps some bard in future days, 
May better tune thy wonted la}s; 
A strain to every Hriton dear, 
To every Scot and Scottish ear ; 
But soon by me thou must be borne 
And hung upon yon aged thorn, 
And Eolus' breath thy numbers swell, 
Dear to my heart, farewell, farewell ! 



AN EPISTLE TO Mr. M<- , 

Relating a Curling Match betwixt the parish of Crawfordjolm and th# 
parish of Sanquhar. 

Dear friend, a wee bit tale I'll gi' ye, 
In hame-spun verse or poetry, 
But that it's dull and scant o' glee 

I'm really fear't, 
However, ye the judge shall be 

When ance ye hear't. 

Folk lo'e the place from whence they sprang, 
And a' their friends they've liv'd amang, 
And wish nae body them to wrang, 

Of do them harm ; % 

So Sanquhar ye will lo'e as lang 

As ye are warm. 
c2 



28 

And now my Cronie, to rereal't, 
Bleak Boreas had the' Ward* congeal'd^ 
And on the glitt'ring icy field. 

As you may think, 
Our Curlers keen their bodies wield 

For pies and drink. 

John Crawford to regain bis glore, 
That he had lost in days o' yore, 
Us summoned wi* a double score 

O 1 men weel picket, 
To field o 1 weir, and solemn swore 

We should be licket 

Tho' bauld the brag and bauld the threat 
We neither trembled nor lookM blate, 
But trusted still that smiling fate 

Would lead us on 
To vict'ry, as of ancient dare, 

'Gainst Crawfordjohn. 

A council's called speedily, 
In which our Curlers a' agree 
To fight it out right manfully 

While they were living 
Aiblens John might fa, or flee 

For a* his deavin'. 

* A loch io tlie^oeighbourhood of Sanquhar. 



29 

Th' accepted challenge (o convey 
An answer's fram'd without delay, 
And by the bearer sent away 

That vera e'en ; 
While every bosom for the fray 

Was beating keen. 

John kept the tryst ye needna fear, 
A Parson, front, and Elder, rear, 
Their uniform like men o' weir, 

Was rigg and fur 
White stockings, and their living gear 

A dawtit cur. 

A gillock scarce their heart had warm'd 

Till a' our lads were fully arm'd, 

Then to the Loch, and Ward, they swarm d 

To try their maugh t, 
Frae far and near folk came alarm'd, 

To see the faught. 

Had that auld singer 'mang the Greeks, 
But heard their Crawford moorland speaks, 
Their outer, and their inner wicks.* 

And witter shot,f 
He'd kittle been to p — his breeks 

Upon tbe spot. 

* The out-ring and in-ring oi a stone. 

t When tae stone rests oa tbe tee, 

c3 



80 

O rousie be na shy nor thrawn, 

To sing how Johnny Crawford's fa'a 

Upo* the field, and a' his blawin* 

Is fairly settled ; 
'Gainst Sanquhar he could never stan* 

Tho' weel he ettled. 

No truly generous mind you know 

Exuiteth o'er a fallen foe, 

Tho' foolish pride hath laid him low \ 

Yet all agree, 
Others may learn by his o'erthrow, 

Humility. 

Auld Sanquhar, lang and lang hast thou 
Wore twisted round thy bonny brow 
The laurel'd wreath so fair to view x 

The victor's pride \ 
Nae rival curler could it pu 1 , 

Tho' often try'd. 

Lang has the frozen north confess* d 
The Sanquhar curlers for the best ; 
And mony ane they've soundly dress'd 

And fairly dung. 
As Wilson, that fine poet* has't 

Sae fitly snuff.* 

» Alluding to i\ pofj o.;. . i a former curling match betwixfc- 

the same panies, in which Sanquhar was victorious. 



31 

While circling seasons onward roll, 
And boisterous billow s barks control v 
While loadstone points unto the pole 

Or norland star, 
May Sanquhar's sons attain the goaL 

At icy war. 



MJSS C 's Li .'&ENT 

On her Lover's going to America 



Ye female lovers far and near 
Let fa* the sympathetic tear, 
The sprightly lad to me sae dear 

Has ta*en his flight ; 
And left me for to tarry here 

A weary wight. 

Oh, Robin ! shall 1 ne'er again 
Behold thee on thy native plain, 
What is't has ta'en him o'er the main ? 

Ye Fates unfold! 
Is it for lo'e o* warld's gain? 

Oh, cursed gold ! 

For thee the dowie lovers mourn, 
And pass their days in bitter scorn y. 



32 

Their vera sauls wi' sorrows torn, 

Aft ne'er redress'd, 

Till in that lanely house forlorn 

They sink to rest. 

Yet, Robin, lad, I hope that ye 
Will mind your vow o' constancy, 
Tho 1 now far aff, mair dear to uie 

Than when sae nigh, 
The bye word hauds, the well I see's 

No miss'd till dry. 

Aft 'neath the pale-fac'd moon I rove 
To seek our wonted haunts of love ; 
In hazel shaw or shady grove 

These haunts I trace ; 
And list, the plaintive cushat dove 

Bewails my case. 

And aften, too. I take a turn 
Alang the margin o' the burn. 
My absent lover there to mourn, 

And vent my sighs ; 
« Tho' left alane, I'm not forlorn," 

The wood replies. 

And in my dream disturbed brain 
I see him far beyond the main, 



33 

Pursuing trade for sake o* gain, 

'Mang ladies fair, 
But what heart's truer than my ain, 

where, O where T 

In lo'e, O Robin ! dinna fa 1 , 

Wi' giglets in America, 

What too' we're parted now atwa 

A wallie space ; 
I hope we'll meet by hymen's law 

And live in peace. 

When last I saw him at the meetin', 
With much ado I held frae greetin', 
My love burnt heartie in its beatin' 

Gied mony a sten, 
The sermon might be Greek, or Latin, 

For ought I ken. 

I oftentimes did Robin dad, 
And in my daffin sair misca'd, 
When he proposed me to wed, 

1 ieugh and gecket, 
But gin I now the proffer had, 

I'd mair respect it. 

But whether it was that or ho, 
Or fate decreed it should be so, 



34 

That he to foreign climes should go ? 

1 dinna ken, 
But weel I wat in grief and woe 

I'm left alane. 

And now upon my knees I'll bend, 
My fervent deepest groanings send 
In prayer to Him who first did lend 

Him life and breath, 
To be his counsellor, and defend 

My lad frae skaith. 

Ye Powers ! who rule earth, sea, and air, 
Oh, hear a lover's cry and prayer, 
And make him your peculiar care 

By land or sea ; 
With fanning gales, O waft him where 

He fain would be. 

And gie him plainly for to see 
Of warld's wealth the vanity, 
And grant he soon return to me, 

The wale o' men ; 
Us baith wi* you I trust and lea', 

Amen, amea. 



35 



AN EPISTLE 

ToMrR. P , Dumfries, 4th June, 1819. 

R 1 P— 1, R 1 P— 1, what's the matter at all, 

Ye're sae langsome in writing your friend ; 

When but some years back, we twa were sae pack, 
That wV life I thought only could end. 

Has your rib, has your rib, by affinity sib, 

Sae relaxed your friendship for me ; 
Or some lawyer tulzie, to share o' the spulzie^ 

Dung a' your fine feelings ajee. 

Never fear, never fear, through the world we'll steer, 
Though Dame Fortune of favours be shy ; 

Life's but a short lease, who may end it in peace, 
With the calmest contentment can die. 

Cceca blind, Cceca blind, has been often unkind 
To the chiel her best favours deserves, 

Yet heaps on the head of those without need, 
While the poet, poor poet, half starves. 

Tho' I strive, tho' I strive, to commix with the hive 

Of bards — yet how feeble the claim ; 
Since lack o' the clink, you justly may think, 

Yields nae plea for enrolling my name. 



36 



Robert Burns, Robert Barns, whom Scotia yet mourns 

As her favourite and poet sae prime ; 
Tho' no prophet am I, yet his fame can descry, 

Reaching down to the fag-end o' time. 

O Allan, O Allan, thou sweet singin' callan, 
In thy pastoral complete thou dost shine ; 

Scotia's Virgil art thou, and surrounding thy brow, 
The laurels, green laurels, entwine. 

Fergusson, Fergusson, tho 1 now cauld as a stone, 
Thy works will thy memory down trace ; 

Yet those please me best, in braid Scots that are dress'd, 
And I'll style thee our British Horace. 

Walter Scott, Walter Scott, thou bard of great note, 

Thy Dame of the Lake, O how grand ! 
For legends and lore, of the deeds done in yore, 

Thou foremost, ay foremost wilt stand. 

There's some yet, there's some yet. but thei r names I forget, 
Yes there's ane they do ca 1 Jamie Hogg; 

O could I, like him Parnassus but clinT, 
I might leave this fair scene not incog. 

Fare ye well, fare ye well, for my rhyme is but stale, 

And my muse is but dull at the best ; 
O write me, dear P — 1, for there's naething at all, 

Can sae please ane, your friend that doth rest. — 

James Kennedy. 



37 

VULCAN'S AMOROUS ADVENTURE. 

When Vulcan grown weary with thumping the gads, 

j3esides orra jobbing, and shoeing the yads ; 

I[e doffed his shoes — to the road be repairs— 

His heart danced light, and as light hang his cares. 

On the heels o' the day, trode the calm evening dew, 

And young dusky brows had an object in view, 

Who wend up the glen, yont yon hill o' green heather, 

And he, with his charmer, was fain to foregather. 

His horn-waukit ncive, held a guid hazel kent, 

Which he swung as he skipt o'er the heather and bent ; 

Tho' his coat was thread-bare, it makes little matter, 

Her father and mother would like him the better. 

Ere long, he arrived at the lirk o 1 the hill, 

Where trotted a burn might hae cawed a mill ; 

On the bank of the burn a cottage arose, 

Where bloom'd his dear lass, like a May morning rose. 

His manners as plain as the hat on his brow, 

So straight he steps in with a — " How do ye do ?V 

The guidwife replied <; I'm happy to tell 

We are a' in good health — how gaest wi' yoursel' ?•' 

A weel hained kebbuck, and routh o' guid cakes, 

A fine yellow pund, and weel dressM as the wax, 

With new milk from the cow, to sin them a' down, 

And a glass o' guid whisky, the meltith to crown. 

The compliments over, the news being tauld, 

The auld fouk grown weary their limbs now enfauld 

D 



m 



In blankets, the finest frae sheep on the el 1 
And the lovers, weel pleased, v*ere left to themser. 
Says Janet to Robin, my heart would be glad 
If young Burnewin our bairnie should wed ; 
His air, gait, and claithing, sae bring to my min' 
The days that are past — the sweet days o 1 langsyne. 
Says Robin to Janet, the lad's a guid trade, 
And if he should proffer our daughter to wed, 
We'll gi'e them our blessing, and what we can spare, 
By way of a tocher, in goods and in gear. 
Before their surmises were come to a close, 
The doubtful night fled as the morning arose ; 
Morpheus, in kindness, extended his sway 
To fit them anew for the toils of the day. 



LINES 
6d the marriage of , 25th January, 1 82tf» 

t)ear is the bowl, and the jovial companion, 
And dear to the exile his own native shore ; 
Far dearer the lassie, in wedlock's soft union, 
last twisted by love round the warm bosom's core. 

No friend clings so close as the wife of the bosom, 
Compar d with her friendship— all friendship's a name 
At fortune's gay smile, they'll endeavour to cozen; 
Tho' fortune should frown, she is ever the same. 



39 



May every refinement that love can inspire, 
Still sweeten your lot with the fair of your choice •, 
And when from the mazes of life you retire. 
Your spirit, new fiedgM, soar aloft, and rejoice, 

o^<^<=> — - 

] 

ON THE STANDARD BEARER OF A SCOT- 

TISH HIGHLAND REGIMENT, 

WHO FELL AT THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 

Wounded on a paragraph in the Dumfries fy Galloway Courier, 



Bonny, \*ith his long wing'd eagle, 

On the plain of Waterloo, 
Britain thought for to inveigle, 

Her and a 1 her powers subdue. 

'Mang the rest a Scottish Regiment 
Bauldly fought, but maistly fell ; 

Unequal was the hot engagement ; 
Few were left the tale to tell. 

Is their valiant Ensign wheeling? 

No — to part wi' honour laith. 
Though dark night be o'er him stealing, 

Grasps the standard firm in death* 
d2 



40 

A fellow soldier, bent on glory, 

Nor at danger stood aghast, 
To rear the standard rush'd with fury. 

The dying warrior held so fast. 

Another scheme the hero's trying, 

Aiblins never trv'd before, 
On's back the Ensign and the Lion 

From the hottest battle bore. 

Gazing foemen, now envying, 
Ne'er beheld sic matchless play ; 

While the dauntless Scot was flying, 
Gave him praise in loud huzza. 

Caledonia, bright's thy glory, 
Fam'd abroad rever'd at hame ; 

Thy forbears, in ancient story, 
Have obtain'd a deathless name. 

Wha can bide the brunt o' cannon, 
Wha can thole the musket's hail, 

France, afresh her IVJonsieurs raannin*, 
Deems that she will yet prevail. 

In honour's bed the brave are king, 

FalPn by Britannia's foe; 
In foreign land the green grass dyeing, 

From their wounds which welling flow. 



41 



Are their brethren round them fly in' ? 

No — like brazen wall they stan', 
Fightin' like a raging lion 

To avenge their death that's fa'n. 

On fancy's wing, I'm wafted over 
TV ocean, to a distant shore ; 

'Bove the ensanguin'd field I hover, 
And hear the cannon's awfu 1 roar. 

Fight. Britons, fight, tho' ye be weary, 

Another struggle's victory ; 
France's prospect dark and dreary, 

Her galled troops begin to flee. 

Sol now quits his fervent fury, 
Bathes him in the western main j ; 

In like manner Bonny's glory 
Setteth— ne'er to rise again. 



AN ADDRESS 

TO THE 

SCOTCH THISTLE ENCIRCLING THE CASTLE OV 

SANQUHAR, 

As- pourtrayed on the Flag of the Incorporated Trades of said Burgh, 

1619. 

Hail ! emblem proud, to Scotia long endear'd, 
Begirt with threat'ning points which never fail'd $ 
d3 



42 



When England's sons their thorn-couch'd rose uprear'd, 

Thou shook'st thy bearded head, and still prevail'd. 

Oft hast thou rear'd thy head in climes afar, 

Oft turn'd the menac'd battle from oar gate, 

And oft has turn'd the doubtful scale of war, 

Thy promptly aid's procured our peaceful state. 

No wonder that our banners with thee wave, 

Encompassing our castle and our towers; 

For thee, the life-blood of our sires brave 

Hath streamM — that we their sons might call thee ours, 

So now, success we'll to the Thistle drink, 

Thy sons by land, and those who plough the main; 

And may'st thou flourish till time's longest link, 

Vntarnish'd, Scotia's glory, still remain! 



WILLIE and ANNIE. 

The best laid schemes o' mice and men 
Gang aft a-gly, 

An* lea'e us naught but grief and pain 
For promis'd joy. 

Boa vs. 

Sol had fled the banks o* Kirtle, 
Lighting up a warmer clime ; 

Shining on the groves o' myrtle,. 
Left auld Scotia for a time.. 



43 

Weary wights were sound and sleeping 
Eas'd a while o' toil and care, 

Morpheas held them in his keepin', 
Tired Nature to repair. 

Though the night is dark and rainy, 
Though the burns like waters riii, 

Willie bounds away to Annie, 
Reckless of a droukit skin. 

Lore within his bosom beating, 

Scorn'd the ghaist o 1 Blacket tower, 

Dreaming o' a happy meeting, 
Soon he reached Annie's bow'r. 

Gently tiding at the winnock. 

Least the auld guidman should hear, 
Ann of the door undoes the lock, 

Willie clasps his dearest dear. 

To his heaving bosom press'd her, 
Low she whispers ** let me be;" 

On ilka cheek and mou' he kiss'd her, 
While she struggles to get free. 

Now wi' ae consent they're trudgiu* 
To a laft amang some hay ; 

There takes up a random lodgin', 
Like others i' the splunting way. 



44 

On the scented hay they're seated, 
Cheek for chow, and ban 1 in han', 

Will his future scheme related,— 
In this manner straught began : 

OTUte. 
Lang time hae I lo'ed ye. Annie, 

Wi 1 a heart baith true and leal; 
On Kirtle banks I'm sure there canna 

Wend a lad wha lo'es sae weel. 

I hae thoughts to rent a mailing, 

Gin I find a canny spot, 
Trusting that ye 1 11 no be failing, 

Ann, to be the mistress o't. 

Giglet gawkies when there dameless, 
Jouk and jauk though seeming thrang, 

But and ben, aye things that's nameless, 
Out o' sight gae aften wraug. 

My auld gutcher's mouldy catter, 

He has heght to gie to me ; 
This will help to mend the matter, 

Join'd to ninety pound and three. 

W T hen by Hymen link't together, 
Ye's be cled baith braw and fine, 

Bid farewell to dad and miiher, 
Change your maiden name for mine. 



4S 

Douf at hame ye needna weary, 
When I ride to race or fair, 

Ann shall ride fir trim and cheery, 
Ilka pastime there to share. 

&nnt*. 
I'm design'd a while to tarry, 

And prolong a single life, 
Thoughtless, and o'er young to marry, 

And to be a farmer's wife. 

Some years syne, baith crap and cattle 
Yeilded nearly cent per cent, 

Now it is an unco battle 

To make up the landlord's rent. 

Gif your gutcher's goud be coupit 

For a mailing over dear, 
In a wee, we might be roupit, 

Stript o' a' our goods and gear. 

Ill on ill, in battle order 

Fills Imagination's e'e ; 
But my Piddir, 'cross the border, 

Is the lad, the lad for me. 

WHXXit. 
England's dames sae braw and gaudy, 
Fairer than the blushing rose, 



46 

Yet may twine you o' your laddie, 
On whose faith ye now repose. 

Aiblins he may take the notion. 

Credit given at his ca', 
To cross the wide Atlantic ocean > 

Landing in America. 

There amang the ladies dashing 
Beauty may his hea«-t enthrall ; 

Glittering in the gayest fashion, 
Annie then may bid faiewell. 

Douf and dowie, vext and greetin% 
When ye hear he's wed anither, 

In despair your fingers eatin', 
Clean delerit a thegither. 

Annie, ae thing's in reserve still, 
That's your parents' best advice, 

Sure ye'll no despise their counsel, 
Gin ye for yoursel* be wise. 

Ye hae drawn a darksome picture 
Of my faithful Peddir boy, 

Sounding like Tod-laurie's lecture^ 
Preaching only to destroy. 



47 

Apt to take my parent's counsel, 
Careful of their Annie's good, 

Vet I'm at my own disposal, 
Not like those of rdyal blood. 

Or like maid, upon the Niger, 
Whom her Joe can eithly catch, 

If he please her dad and mither. 
They conclude with him the match* 

recftfo 

Now farewell, my toying Annie, 
Love and reason's a' in vain ; 

Sin* your heart to move they cauna, 
Cauld and hard as ony stane. 

Three times o'er the cock had crawed, 
Willie must of course away ; 

In the east the light had dawed, 
Harbinger of coming day. 

Howlets aid his doleful ditty, 
As he danders hame again, 

Woods and streams in every pity ? 
Sympathized with his pain. 



48 
AULD S >Y'S ELEGY. 

Ye fishers a' lament and greet, 

Let saut, saut tears rin down like sweat, 

For S y's win' i' the last sheet 

As can Id as lead ; 
He was a fisher, maist complete. 

But now he's dead. 

He was the king o' a' your race, 
'The siller kipper for to chace, 
Or if he wheel'd about would face 

Wi 1 bickern speed, 
Now ye may wail, ohon ! alas ! 

Auld S y's dead. 

Wi' sa'mon rod, or trouting wan', 
Frae place to place he never ran, 
Lang days thegither he would stan' 

At Trough pool head 
At catching fish he had the can, 

But now he's dead. 

Ye brawnit troufs, now play your fill 
Frae Jardineha' to Ramblehill, 
Nae mairhis baited hook '11 kill, 

Or ere you dread, 
For now right sair against his will, 

Auld S y'e dead. 



49 

I* th* trows he'd sail fu' bonnilie* 
When Annan it was clear and wee, 
And glowr for fish wV tentie e'e 

And meikle greed, 
And syne the leister he'd let flee, 

But now he's dead. 

Nae mair at night we*ll him espy 
Afore the broom-light, bleezin' high 
Thro' mirky cloud illum'd the sky, 



VVi' sparkling red, 



t)ealh never seal'd a glegger eye 

Than his that's dead. 

Ye trowlers a' for him niak' main, 
For mony a fit wi' you he's gane, 
And mony a fish he's killed and ta'en 

Without a whid, 
Now ye may trowl and fish your lane, 

Auld S y's dead. 

Nae mair his wraith will fouk afright 
At Trough- pool head, at dead o' night, 
And gar them glowr wi' dazzling sights 

And use a creed, 
l * Preserve ub ! this guid sic a night," 

For now he's dead. 

Nae mair he'll poaching fishers quarrel, 
Wha stowlings off the sa'mon hurl, 

E 



50 

Or yet make Betty draw the barrel 
For liquor guid, 

Or pree her cheese and aiten farrel, 

Auld S y's dead. 

That wee bit loch aside the Biel, 
The curling- stane he'd play ftr leal, 
And make the shots a* clattering reel 

Round the tee head, 
The pith and aim Dryfe lads wad feel, 

But S y's dead. 

Stupid pride was ne'er his failing, 
Just and upright in bis dealing, 
Poortith pale, frae aff his mailing. 

Were serv'd in need. 
The country far and near's bewailing 

Auld S y dead. 



AN ODE, 

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF CHARLE? WILLIAM. 
LATE DUKE OF BUCCLLUCH <fc QUEENSBERRY. 



" Quando ullum inrenient parem ?" 

Horace, Oiie xxiv, Book 



All hail, my Muse, inspire thy Bard to sing 
A country's heavy loss in great Buccleuch ; 
Of each fine feeling touch tLe softest string, 
For him that's dead and lost to mortal view. 



SI 



Tho' born to titles, wealth, and honours great, 
Yet what can all these transient things afford ! 
At death's approach we all must yield to fate — 
AHke then falls the peasant and his lord. 

Five times the circling seasons sped away 
Since his fair partner bade her lord adieu, 
Then drop't the mantle of this mortal clay, — 
The soul, set free, to brighter worlds flew. 

Far, far beyond keen fancy^s utmost bound 
Shall kindred spirits meet to part no more. 
Where Jesus reigns, in beaming glory crown'd, 
And saints and angels worship and adore. 

Tho 1 high in rank, in friendship's circle high, 
And to the view, smooth slid life's passing stream, 
Yet, when alone, he often heaved a sigh, 
And pleasure vaaished like a morning dream. 

O happy youth, when every virtue fair 
Is brought to view, and precept leads the road, 
When fostered by the hand of mild paternal care. 
To tread the narrow pah that leads to God. 

This lot was his, his father ever prone 
To store his mind with every moral grace, 
And virtue rare, that, long conspicuous, shone 
In ancestors of high distinguish'd race. 
e2 



52 



for as the hardy, tail, umbrageous oak, 
Defends the lesser trees which round it grow,—. 
Bears, in their stead, the elemental shock 
Which, if defenceless, would them overthrow y*± 

Or like a nest beneath his fostering wing, 
Depending poor oft met his kind employ, 
And oft he caused the widow's heart to sing, 
And oft the orphan's bosom heave with joy. 

O thou Supreme ! who by thy power snstai vSi 
This massive ball, and bid'st the seasons roll, 
And o'er the grand machine a right mintain'st 
And mark'st each part subservient to the whole—* 

Behold yon mourners, who their sire lament I 
By nature's tender tie the salt drops flow; 
JMay resignation banish discontent, 
And consolation stem the tide of woe. 

Long may his offspring in those virtues shine, 
Which he possess' d conspicuous to the view, 
And every grace the ancestorial line, 
Of much rcver'd, lamented, great BUCCLEUCU. 



5$ 



ELEGIAC VERSES 

TO THE MEMORY OF THE AUTHOR'S FATHER, 

WHO DIED 7TH DECEMBER, 1818. 



Hail, night! thou scene for contemplation dear, 
Befitting now the subject which I choose,-— 
Hail, silence, too ! let naught obtrude my ear, 
Assist to paint my plaintive, mournful Muse. 

Ah!" why this letter bound with blackest seal ? 
Why M haste and care," thus noted here below? 
And as I break it up, what's this 1 feel 
Convulse my heart, presaging grief and woe ? 

A true presage * — my father is no more ! 
His trem'lous pulse hath now forgot to play, 
His round of years is seven and fourscore, 
On leaving friends below, and mortal clay. 

Haste, O my brethren ! let us all attend 
The obsequies of him who gave us birth; 
And let our sire this useful lesson lend, 
That we must die, and mix with kindred eartff. 

My prayers are heard : my brethren all inclin'd 
T' attend the nodding hearse, and join the bier; 
Our trembling hands have dust to dust consign'd^ 
And o'e* the grave pcurd forth affection's tear, 
e3 



Si 



Flow on, ye tributary tears, now flow, 
Divine example taught us from above ; 
For Jesus wept at Laz'rus grave, you know;, 
Test of 's humanity, of friendship, and of love. 

List Wisdom's voice, which bids ns cease to grieve, 
Jesus, our rock, our mountain, ever make ; 
Though earthly parents now by death us leave, 
The Lord, our living friend, will us uptake. 

Like as the master gathereth in the shocks 
From fields around, to where the barn- yard stands* 
So to the grave our sires, in hoary locks, 
Descend — and death a reverend awe demands. 

He, with our mother, reard our tender youth 
With all the fondness of parental love, 
And early stor'd our minds with divine truth, 
To love our brother, and the God above. 

Farewell my sisters, and my brothers too, 
Perhaps we all on earth may meet no more ; 
O may we still the path of life pursue, 
And meet at last upon a happier shore ! 

AN EJACULATORY PRAYER, 

O tbo i Most High, uho reign'st above, 
Vouchsafe to guide me still, 



And fill my heart with heavenly love, 
Thy precepts to fulfil. 

No free-will works, nor worth have I, 

A sinner quite undone ; 
Yet Jesus Christ for such did die, 

And made their sins his own. 

Through the atonement he hath made, 

Let mercy flow to me ; 
Then when Fm number'd with the dead, 

I'll live and reign with Thee. 



-*♦*- 



REFLECTIONS ON THE NEW YEAIS. 

Occasioned by the death of the Author's youngest sob. 



Again the circling southern sun 
Proclaims another year is run, 
Which shortens the dimiuish'd span 
Of time below to mortal man. 

The sacred Volume holds to view 

How short our days — how passing few % 

Fleeter than the eagle's flight, 

More transient than a watch of night ; 

And ages swift as shadows fly, 

As nothing in the divine eye, 



56 



Contrasted with that blissful shorn, 

Where moons shall wax and wane no more* 

How many, since the last new year, 
Of nearest kin and kindred dear, 
Have run life's short and fleet career, 
On whom the law hath had its sway, 
By mingling with their kindred clay ? 

By hope we \iew in bliss divine. 
The soul in life immortal shine, 
Through Jesus, our true Pascal lamb, 
Who for our bliss a curse became, 
That we might soar and sing above 
The praises of Redeeming love. 

Grant us, O Lord ! thy quickening grace 

T o fit us for that happy place, 

So when life's day below doth close, 

We may enjoy a cairn repose, 

Since in thy holy word we see, 

Blest are the dead who die in The§. 

Time's on the wiig when all amain 
Shall spring to life and light again, 
When the dread trumpet's awful sound 
Shall earth's remotest regions wound, 
The grave shall yield her ancient charge, 
And ransom'd captives set at large. 



£7 

O happy and thrice blessed day, 
When all the saints, in glorious 'ray, 
Will meet their Lord and Saviour dear 
In air, and at his bar appear, 
Their sentence and acquittal given. 
With angel hosts they wing for heaven. 

Whilst woe — unutterable woe, 
Makes misery's bitter cup o'erflow 
To rebel angels, rebel men, 
Beyond keen fancy's utmost ken. 

My thoughts attend that ransom'd race, 
Who sing the praise of sovereign grace, 
In honour of their mighty King, 
Till all the heavenly arches ring. 

There, Three in One, and One in, Three, 

Will lose part of its mystery ; 

l<or knowledge vast there far extends, 

A.s far as finite comprehends ; 

For still a something will remain 

Unknown to angels and to men. 

As on a stream that passeth by, 
New glories catch th* admiring eye ; 
So, if the metaphor be true, 
New glories there will spring to view. 



6$ 

To make our cup of bliss overflow, 
We death divided friends will know, 
And join the throng with one accord, 
To praise our gracious sovereign Lord. 

There, angels' notes we'll far outvie, 
Who still may stoop, and gaze and pry,. 
Yet never shall that mystery scan, 
God's boundless love bestowed on mart. 

There the uncloth'd shall clearly see 
What here had prov'd a mystery ; 
God's dealing with the sons of men 
Was to, procure their countless gain ; 
Those dispensations intricate, 
Were all in love, devoid of hate. 

Fain would my feeble pow'rs essay 
T' anticipate the glorious lay 
By saints and angels sung above, 
Where all is harmony and love. 

Lord, guide me in the narrow path 
That leads to life, thro* tempVal death ; 
Where faith and hope will useless prove, 
And every grace give way to iove. 



59 



VERSES 

Composed on reading the news of the death of our much-beloved and 
regretted Sovereign King George the Third. 

From whence this sound of grief-presaging knell ? 
And why doth prince and peasant sable wear? 
Why heaves the sobbing breast with anguish fell ? 
Why bursts the eye with sorrow's scalding tear ? 

Yes, there is reason now to weep and wail, 
A nation's loss demands a nation's woe ; 
Yon black-edged print relates the rueful tale, 
King George the Third is now by death laid low! 

Long hath he reign'd upon the British throne, 
And o'er his subjects, as a father mild ; 
The troublous times have brighter lustre thrown, 
And happy success oft our pain beguil'd. 

Oft hath the battle rag'd in climes afar, 

Oft thunder'd on the peace disturbed sea ; 

But still by Him, who turns the scale of war, , 

Are British isles and British subjects free. 

At day's decline, oft times the murky cloud 
Obscures the vaulted arch, and prospects vast ; 
So fell disease his nobler pow'rs enshroud, 
Which held them firm, and held them to the last. 



60 



Oar latest struggles, 'specially Waterloo, 
And what's to patriotic Briton's dear, 
Our many trophies from the vanquished foe, 
Ne'er met his eye, nor victory's sound his ear. 

His crown and sceptre must another grace, 
And on his throne another bear the sway ; 
His spirit freed, new worlds of glory trace, 
And wear the crown which never fades away. 

His part that's mortal from the tomb at length 
Shall joyful wake, with Heavenly beauties glow*, 
Freed from corruption, in immortal strength, 
Nor death, nor pain, nor sighing sorrow know. 

O thou, Britannia ! may this meed be thine, 
Thy sovereigns, subjects of the King of kings, 
Their virtuous memory round thy heart entwine, 
And flourish till the last shrill trumpet rings. 



TO A YOUNG FRIEND, 

On p resenting the Author with a Ticket to the valuable L, 
at Sanquhar. 

Is friendship but an empty name, 

An idle gaudy toy, 
The breath of praise to fan a flame, 

But kindled to destroy? 



61 



Descend, descend from heights above, 

In all thy golden glow, 
Thou spark from the great source of lave, 

And cheer this vale below. 

How often, often, have I found 

Professed friendship wind, 
A specious, hollow, empty sound, 

That left no trace behind. 

For when the day of adverse fate, 

Like v» aters rushM amain ; 
•1 was then I found, but found too late, 

Professed friendship — vain. 

O gratitude ! where art thou fled ? 

W here dost thou now preside ? 
'Mong heathens hast thou rear'd thy head, 

The tiny tribes to guide? 

Like to the bow that spans the vale, 

The bow of lovely hue, 
To reach its base we ever fail, 

Which flits as we pursue. 

By reading books, I learn of thee 

Who liv'd in olden time ; 
Of moderns, too, in humble prose, 

Or more exalted rhyme. 

F 



62 

And tho 1 the sun of poesy 

Be sunk in death's long night, 

Among the stars of mean degree 
I'll shed a twinkling light. 

r 

And if the silvery moon should set, 

All dreary were our plains. 
Unless the stars a light emit, 

To cheer our nymphs and swains. 

A grateful heart towards my fiiend 

I ever cherish shall ; 
'Tis all a Bardie can pretend, 

Thei«* bounties are but small. 

My warmest wishes for your weal 

I'll carefully employ ; 
May every blessing that is real 

Brim fill your cup of joy ! 

And may we have him as a friend, 
Though we should have no other. 

Whose friendship never knows an end,- 
Sticks closer than a brother ! 



63 
THE SHORTLIVED JOYS of WILLIE HASTIE. 



A TRUE TA1 



Young Willie, on the banks o' Clyde, 
His youthfu passions coaldna bide, 
But ran to fairs, and merry meetings, 
And gied the lasses mony treatings. 
A mang them a', to pick and choose, 
And with some winsome winchie noose. 
As you shall hear, young Will was bidden 
Unto a wedding, at Gilridding ; 
And thither mony a beau and belle 
Keen vied, each other to excel. 
The simmer draught had made fu' clean, 
Afore the door a bonnie green. 
On which our younkers tript it fine, 
To shew their skill in keeping time ; 
While loud the laugh, and bauld the brag 
If they could cause each other fag ; 
The auld folks crack and wet their craigie 
Wi* Highland strunt or dear Kilbeggie. 
The dazzlin' sun made braws mair braw, 
And lassies sweet now sweeter shaw ; 
Those void o 1 charms now charms discover, 
And very quickly find a lover. 
Now wha should catch young Willie's een, 
But beauty's model, Jenny Steen ; 
E2 



64 



Wha's ilka limb and ilka feature, 

Shaw'd her the master-piece o' Nature •,— • 

And she nae less was ta'en wi 1 Will, 

Tho' custom wadna let her tell. 

Ye lengtben'd courtships a' be hush, 

W hen ilk ane's fitted to their wish ; 

The minted meanin' is as plain 

As three times seven's twenty-ane ; 

A love like their's brooks no delay, 

But posted on their bridal-day. 

To take young Willie's trade alang, 

He sew'd, he whistled, and he sang, 

To cheer his Jenny at the spinnin' 

Her web o' twice six hundred linen. 

On downy wings sax months were fled, 

And Willie thought him brawiy sped, 

Nae room to doubt his courage left, 

His Jenny like an elson-heft.— 

Ae night about the chap o' ten. 

Young Jenny felt unusual pain, 

"Which, now-a-days is grown sae common 

With toying wench and married woman. 

So o'er the eye of Priek-the-louse, 

She drew the blade of sly excuse : 

" The other day when at the well, 

•* By chance I siipt the fit and fell 

" Upon the can, and hurt my side 

" That's now grown worse and worse to bide. 



6d 



" Hae done your parritch ! haste ye Will j 
" Swilh off and seek to me some skill!" 
Stitch gulp'd the sequel o' his crowdie, 
And ran with speed to bring the howdie. 
Thus done, he took a second tour, 
Wi 1 a 1 the birr was in his pow'r ;. 
Nae dirt, [ wat, stuck to his feet, 
On gatherin' in the wanton meat : 
The loaves, the whisky, and the cheese, 
And a' that could the gossips please, 
Or pleasure Jenny at the least, 
The mother of the coming feast. 
To paint what Bodkin now might feel, 
So anxious for his Jenny's weel, 
Outdings the pow"r of poefs quill. 
When cheerful day had banish'd nighfc, 
The skirlin' wee ane saw the light ; 
And Phaeton had yok\i his. steeds, 
The infant child, in infant weeds 
Wa- full bedight ;— a gossip ran 
For Stitch to kiss his wife and son.. 
My muse, be hush, ye canna tell't, 
The short liv'd joys that Bodkin felt, 
The grief, the sorrow, and vexation, 
The brim-full cup of consternation; 
Convulsive nature caus'd him weep, 
On viewing nature's chimla sweep ; 
Nae premature —a plump, ripe wean s 
A tawny, din, or half a cane. 
f3 



Then turning round to Jenny, said, 
Thou trust deceiving faithless jade, 
This moment I do take an aith, 
Ae bed s'all never had us baith. 
Na, nor ae bouse, nor native lan\ 
Thus having said, frae her he ran, 
And left his ance-Iov'd Jenny Steen, 
And straught took on for a marine. 
The moral of this tale may prove 
The bad effect of lawless love. 



MUNGO CLARK'S FUNERAL. 

A satire on the mode of funeral entertainment, or service, now 
so happily done away with in most pai'ts of Scotland, 

Some fouk may think the muse should tell 

The place, by death, where Mungie fell: 

If on the spot she rightly hit, 

'Twas some place near to Carron-fit, — ; 

I mean its junction with the Nitb, 

YV here he resigned life and breath. 

All further preface now to spare — 

A faithful friend, with anxious care, 

Each requisite, with zeal prepar'd. 

To have him decently interrM. 

The goods were sold for ready pence, 

To aid the iuneral expence j 



67 



The wallet, too, o' duffle green, 
That had some years o' seivice seen^ 
In tear and wear it much had thol'd, 
With wind and rain, et cetera, hoPd ; 
His vera claiths and peddir staff, 
The cankert curs that keepit aff, 
Nor thought of using fleechin* wordies, 
But with it soundly bang'd their h— dies ; 
Yet after a' this frugal w ark, 
It pinch'dly coft a wooden sark ; — 
But what was lacking in the matter, 
The guests supply'd with gifted catter, — : 
I mean the guests assembled here, 
Attendants on the funeral bier, 
Which but to mention at the time 
Would overswell my tale and rhyme. 
Be't known they came from near and far, 
The Cam, the Chanlock, and the Scaur ; 
The trough o' Nith came a' at will, 
And oiony ane frae r bout Thomhill ; 
The lads o 1 Carrou, by the grit, 
Assembled at their streamlet's fit. 
Now Gavan Grave in accents clear, 
Sounds of a grace as langr's a prayer, 
In which he'd scope to moralize, 
And soars aboon the upper skies ; 
Yet all his doctrines he might spare, 
For some, who eyed the welcome fare. 



68 



Imprimis, — then to wet their moa\ 

And sin' their craig, twa glass o 1 blue. 

And eke their eating to descrive, 

The rcheaten loaf in raony a sbive : 

Secundo — then twa glass o' rum 

Made some to speak, before were dumb, 

And followed by the short- bread cake, 

Of which they freely might partake ; 

Tettio — then twa glass o 1 wine, 

Which caus'd the crystal glasses shine, 

With carved bread, and bread and cheese. 

And as much yili as e'er they please. — 

This done, a sage the bonnet clinkit 

Ffae's pow, nd said a lang belhankit. 

The steeds are brought frae out the stall, 

They mount their charger?, one and all ; 

And that they might with ease proceed, 

A hearse conveys the silent dead. 

The day was wet, the wind blew fierce, 

Which caus'd them lodge within the hearse 

Some whisky, fast <j\ Mungie's side, 

To be a dram, at auld Kirkbride ; 

Or aiblins twa*, and what the matter, 

'Twad bang the bitter blast the better. 

Ere we proceed, 'twill be of use 

A character to introduce : 

A gangrel body, ane M' Donna n, 

Came stalking onward, ower the ioanin'; 



69 



As to the service down they sat, 

The carle had swelled out the rat, 

That tribe I trow are as auidfarran 

As corbie-craws, that live on carrion. 

Soon as the dead is borne away, 

The gang appears in fall array ; 

Some white money — what donors please—* 

Besides a dad o' bread and cheese ; 

And if a glass withal be given, 

The defunct's sure to rest in heaven. 

M'Donnan's aid they seek, they crave. 

To run before, and make the grave ; 

That he might run wi* greater speed, 

The cash in hand they to him gi'ed ; 

Forbye a dram to keep his heart, 

That he might better play his part, 

YV hich but to doubt, there was nae cause, 

For he had seen some greater snaws, 

When rankit 'niang the British tars 

He fac'd her foes and fought her wars. 

Suffic't to say, that a* went right, 

For as the hearse appearM in sight, 

The narrow house was fully made, 

And he stood leaning o'er the spade, 

Whilk soon he play'd with strength and skill. 

The new made grave again to fill ; 

And every funeral rite to crown, 

The green-grass sod was clapped down. 



70 



Each funeral guest instinctive draws 
Beneath Kirkbride's auld ruin'd wa's, 
The new-made sexton with them ranks 
Upon a stane, to ease his shanks. 
The whisky here, they had reserv'd, 
Was round and round in order serv'd \ 
And if the truth I must allow, 
M'Donnan got notorious fou ; 
To poise his bulk, hauds by the wa's, 
As aft he quits, as aft he faJs ; — 
Had not v this scheme come in their head, 
He might hae lain amang the dead ; 
His wife nae mair had Andrew seen, 
Like laden, bee, come hame at e'en, 
The wight so light, who reels androttles, 
They lodge be-ide the empty bottles. 
Within the hearse at length he's streekit, 
And third and fast the door is steekit ; 
Then slowly moving down the steep, 
The Carle drappit fast asleep. 
Their hameward path as they pursue, 
Drumlanrig bar appears in view, 
At which they raaistly lighted down, 
And join'dthe bowl, their bliss to crown. 
Si\e reekin 1 het, without a fault, 
Unless it was. the pith o' malt. 
Now sable night, ber veil unfurl'd, 
And spread it o'er this lower world } 



71 



The furthy Dame, with speeches sleek, 
And sma* expence the cash to cleek, 
Bounc'd bauldly ben her guests to please, 
By treating them with bread and cheese. 
The cakes were guid, the cheese was rich, 
They a' agreed they couldna fitch — 
Then rang the bell, and cryM in haste, 
Bring ben a bottle o' the best. 
The bowl they fill, and quickly drain, 
Then fill and drink, and fill again \ — 
Unclouded wit and learning clear, 
Shine forth in double lustre here ; 
When lo ! auld Jehu's son and heir, 
Took of his father special care, 
Came rap, rap, rap, unto the door, 
And disconcerts the merry core. 
What though he tauld as guid a story 
As e'er a Cam'ron, whig, or tory, 
'Twas a' in vain. * * * 
He might as weel been deaf or dumb, 
His father wadna budge his b— m ; 
Nor wad young Jehu drink or stay, 
But hasten'd much to get away. 
Th* impatient steeds now paw the road, 
The sable .plumes obedient nod ; 
He seiz'd the whip, he seiz'd the rein, 
Then on the seat he vaults amain. 
As dun deer thro 1 the forest bounds, 
As hare pursued by the hounds, 



72 



The chargers run as fierce and fleet, 
The fire is flashm' frae their feet ; 
The jolting carriage kept it's poize, 
Eat made a thundering mighty noise* 
Scarce had they past the first mile stone, 
When issued from the hearse a groan ; 
Tho' faint at first it struck the ear, 
It made young Jehu quake for fear; 
In consternation, wrapt and lost, 
He thought it might be Mungie's ghost. 
Or something worse, he couldna tell, 
Perhaps it might be Mungie's seV ; 
Then stay'd the steeds, and wheel'd about, 
And for the toll bar took his route. 
Anon, anon, the sound proceeds, 
Which made him faster urge the steeds ; 
And when the groans gave way to cries, 
He slacks the reins, the whip he plies : 
The steeds nae quicker could hae gone, 
Tho' they'd been dri'en by Phaeton. 
Still louder baul'd the hoary tar, 
Avast ! give place to ply the oar; 
But sae encag'd, where can T be ? 
I'm neither on the land nor sea. 
But dash'd about and onward whirl'd, 
I doubt I'm in the other world. 
Meantime they gain'd the destin'd post. 
When sally'd forth baith guests and host ; 



73 



Young Jehu cry'd so loud and fierce, 

O father ! Mungie's i' the hearse. 

As from the box he leaped down, 

His bristled hair stood on his crown ; 

His look was wild — but, to be brief, 

Fear shook him like an aspen leaf. 

They op't the hearse, and, from the prison, 

Crawl'd forth the prisoner, auld M'Donnan, 

Eas'd of his fears, and blythe and fain 

To tread the solid ground again. 

My jaded muse maun now forbear 

To tell how lang they bended here ; 

How much the lawin was ava, 

Or at what hour they went awa; — 

So let no querist prove a pest, 

They took their leave when they thought best. 

Tho" oft they fell, yet still they rose, 

And only soiTd their sombre clothes ; 

With lith and limb got safely hame, 

Tho' some approach'd a scolding Dame. 

ELEGY ON MUNGIE CLARK, 
LATE TRAVELLING MERCHANT. 



Hills, woods, and valleys a' complain, 
Thou Nith, soft winding to the main, 

G 



74 



And tribute streamlets join the strain, 
For well ye need, 

Till echoes wide ring owre the plain, 

That Mungie's dead. 

Ye bardies, wail in waefu' notes, 
iTill grief hae roopit a' your throats ; 
Ye harmless sheep, in nightly cots, 

Bleat oat with speed, 
And tell the nimble mountain goats, 

Auld Mungie"s dead. 

Mourn him> ye peddirs every one, 
Frae wallet-green to caravan ; 
Ye wha at fairs set out your stan' 

To gain your bread, 
Grim death has got the upper han 1 , 

O, Mungie's dead! 

Ye wives on Nitb, and wives on Craw^ 
In Annandale and Gallowa 1 , 
Now let the pearly draps down fa', 

For well ye may, 
Since he wha clad you a 1 fu* braw, 

Lies cauld in clay. 

Each bonnie lass, O join thy milher, 
And let the saut draps mix thegither. 
For Tuffle-pack, that gleesorae peddir, 
Hath run his race ; 



75 

Nor dale, nor shire, will find anither 
To fill his place. 

In winter nights at farmer's ha', 

Knives, sheers, and razors he would shaw, 

Plaids, shawls, and napkins, guid and braw, 

Sale to procure, 
And things were no made here ava\ 

You may be sure. 

A farmer's wife, 'tis aften said, 

At Thornhill fair would buy a plaid, 

But being rather coarse of thread, 

She threw it back 
For one of finer texture made, 

On Mungie's pack. 

And soon the artfu', greedy knave, 
It shuffled slyly through the lave 
O's goods — and said sure ane I have, 

Since ye're sae nice, 
Will owre your h— dies gaily wave, 

But high in price. 

" And what's the price ?"_«« Five crowns/' he said, 

" It's fit for either wife or maid ; 

"_ You might, to find a bonnier plaid, 

" l Gang far eneugh j M 

g2 



76 

And while she down the siller paid, 
He inly leugh. 

Fame says his uncle said some claith 

To a bit wifie, that was laith 

To pay the same, till dread o 1 skaith 

GiVd her a fleg, 
And syne her feeble, feckless faith 

Took fairly leg. 

A fancy came in Mungie's head, 
To feign his uncle now as dead ; 
And eke his ghaist if there was need 

Should straught appear, 
To fill ths wihVs breast wi' dread, 

And panic fear. 

A siller rill of water good, 

Hard by a deep umbrageous wood; 

'Twas here her lonely cottage stood, 

Beneath a brae, 
Where bobtail'd bleaters nibble food, 

And lambkins play. 

When Mungie enter'd therein till. 
Sad sorrow seem'd his heart to fill ; 
" Guidwife, I, by my uncle's will, 
"Am legatee, 



77 



" And heir at law, so pay his bill 

" Cash down to me."; 

Quo' she, and made an unco flare, 
u I hae nae siller now to spare ; 
M But gin ye at our winter fair, 

" Set out your stan% 
" I'll pay you plack and penny there, 

'• Gif that T can." 

" Guidwife," quo* he, *' the deceas'd haunted 
" The house of those of whom he wanted, 
" I saw his ghaist it maun be granted, 

44 Ayont the stack ; 
" Gin it appears, ye're fairly lanted, 

41 I'll wad my pack." 

Then wyTt her out to point the road,. 
When lo ! a figure, queer and odd, 
Now up and down, wi* mony a nod, 

And hollow grane, 
" Watch owre us baith, he's skipt the sod, 

44 We're gane — we're ganeJ" 

Then hame she ran in panic haste, 
Syne rumraag'd through an aiken kist, 
And wi* the siller in her fist, 

ReturnM wi 1 speed; 

g3 



78 



." I hope your uncle now will rest 

" Amang the dead/ 1 

Now Mungie leugh and did protest 
His friend had nobly play'd the ghaist ; 
And, as they baith began to thirst, 

They wys'd away 
To eoup the cash drawn frae the kUt 

For usquebae. 

To tell each feat, and turn and wyne, 
Of Mungie's life I dont design ; 
A few of many, 1 incline 

To think, is best ; 
From these, with ease, a fertile min' 

May guess the rest. 

A prophet ance, as you may see, 
Had three dajs march in Nineveh, 
Penpont cost Aiungie three times three, 

A \iila°e sma 1 , 
And aiblins gin he'd bended free, 

A towmond twa. 

Ance he ^as on a sick bed laid. 
And gospel John had for him pray\J, 
When, teas' d on future prospects, said, 

Perhaps in joke, 
** I hope allowance wiil be made 

«• Foi trading folk. n 



79 



As soon as he got well again, 
TVs former ways he bent amain, 
Nor stick't at aught to cleek in gain 

To keep him bousin' ; 
Thus drowning every care and pain 

In deep caiousin 1 . 

But mark, ere long* the tricker's tricket, 
For death ran fiercely thro* a wicket, 
And deep in Mungie's breast he sticket 

A mortal woun', 
Thro's back transpierc'd the vera wallet, 

And baith fell down, 

Gif ony for his tombstone speer, 
Wha wish to shed a tribute tear, 
It's at Kirkbride, near Durrisdeer, 

Known by this mark ; 
*' The mortal part's interred here 

Of xMungie Clark." 



AN EPISTLE TO G W , Esq. 

FEBRUARY 10, 1820. 

Sir. for your gift T thank you brawlie, 
A compliment baith giud and waihe, 



80 



A yellow, me] low, sweet milk cheese, 

Alike baitb taste and stomach please. 

My wife and son, beneath my wing, 

Now loudly in your praises sing ; 

And while we on the kebbuck feast, 

We wish you what is termed blest. 

I wot you judge, and judge aright, 

A poet's purse is often light ; 

Nor are their pantries better stor'd 

With daintiths rare, to crown the board. 

Sin' Homer's days, the Grecian bard, 

And Virgil, the Mantuan herd, 

Who sung sae sweet in canty strains, 

And charm'd the streams, the woods and plains ; 

The rivers stay'd their rapid course, 

Lest they offend with murmurs hoarse ; 

The fleecy flocks forgot to graze, 

And listeird to the poet's lays; 

The tuneftT burdies lend their song, 

Old echo bears the notes along 

The woody vales and sloping hills, 

While Nature's heaFt the music thrills ; 

The Tweed, the Yarrow, and the Doon, 

Respondent rung to many a tune, 

And other streams of lesser note, 

By native bards that 1 could quote. 

The peerless fair, the brave, the bold, 

Still lives in verse, tho' dead of old ; 



81 



Our country's right, our country's wrong, 

Breathes forth in many a Scottish song. 

It Barn's mantle I could catch, 

The following streams these streams should match ; 

Or if his muse would on me ca', 

I'd sing the Yochan, Nith, and Craw ; 

Tiieir flow'ry vales and woody braes, 

Would answer to the poet's lays; 

The frisking lambs and gamesome sheep^ 

In fitful play, the time would keep. 

But O ! imagination wild ! 

Reserv'd for Nature's favourite child, 

80 my poor muse maun droop her wing 

And leav't to other bards to sing; 

Aiblins some aie yet unborn 

May better blaw and bear the horn. 

You'll think that frae the point I'm wide 

But when I gammon lay astride, 

Pegasus scrieves owre hill and glen, 

And where he'll halt ye winna ken, 

Tho' reckless of a beaten track, 

I make a shift to keep his back. 

At other times he winna stir, 

Tho' I should ply baith whip and spur. 

As restive as a thraward filly, 

Or jaded horse that's run in dilly. 

My love unto your winsome fair, 

Health, wealth, content, and a' that's rare, 



82 



Attend your ca' ;-*-yonr offspring prove 
The solace of your mutual love. 
But to conclude my wishes fervent, 
Your most obedient humble servant, 

JAMES KENNEDY. 



CRAWICKMILL. 

A POEM. 

Rab Burns has sung Edina's city, 
Scotian mountain, wood and rill, 

But nae bard, sae mair's the pity, 
Ever thought on Cra wick mill. 

Here there's roath o* running water, 
For to grind the corn and bear, 

Here the dinsome clap plays clatter, 
A' the seasons o" the year. 

If new pick't and famous tift in, 
Wheelin' round wi' m^rry sough, 

JCeepin* aft twa sitters siftin\ 
And to manage't work eneugb. 

Here the farmer coups his siller, 
For some mugs o' D *s yill, 

Aided by the du»ty miller, 
To sin down the fouky meal. 



83 



tiere there's carding, spinning', dying, 
Carlins tough to twist and twine, 

Here the carpet shuttle's flying, 
Casting up the figures fine. 

Fertile genius introducing 

Patterns many, neat, and new, 

Fancy pieces ay inducing 
Sale, from figure, cloth, and hue. 

Ilka ane maun hae a carpet, 

Frae the cottage to the ha 1 , 
Some gaes to the Lon'on market, 

Some to German gentles braw. 

Some are bought for sake o' figure, 

To adorn my lady's floor, 
Some to bang the winter's rigour, 

Where the storm lies dreigh and dour. 

Here a kind o' wooden clankets, 

Daddin on wi' stinted scoup, 
Wauking some wife's white skin blankets. 

Or some flannel for her d — p. 

Here the famous country dyer, 

Ony hue ye like can give, 
Suited to bis kind employer, 

Since by trade he dies to lite. 



S4 

Here the braid claith gets a dressing, 
Snpddit wi' the meikle shears, 

Undergoes a coarse of pressing, 
Then like English claith appears. 

Here auld wives like cadger's ponies, 
Wi' their woo' come drapping in ; 

Frae the country lasses bonny 
Gettin't cardit fit to spin. 

Here the fair 'mang woo' and ulic, 
Langsome wait or they get hame, 

Where ensnes a skaitbless tully 
Frae a frettin 1 , cankert dame. 

If some deem it all a fiction 
What before I writ in glee, 

The subject's open for inspection, 
They may come themsers and see. 

If they want a shool or spadie, 

Iron girdle, wee or big, 
At the forge they'll find them read}', 

In the shop oi J y 11 g. 



85 



THE COMPLAINT AND PETITION OF EL- 
LIOCK BRIDGE. 

to me r rMtees m the mgl , m Cou ^ 

J«ty, 1821. 

Some sax score years faae ta'en their flight 
Since reared by tbe sons of light, ' 

In true masonic order <rran' 

0'erNi(ha< Sst ,eamIbeat^ span , 

f'^^^^y.auld.andfrai/, 
For br.gs, and men, and a ' maon fail . 

Langhae I stood a common good 

And borne the dash o'monv a flood 
That wrought my brethren meikie wae 
Swept pillars, arch , and , oo|s 
In spring, when a' the holms were red 
And rains descended frae the head 
The Nith then rolling in his pride,' 
My landstools lav'd on every side. 

And often, too, the Lammas flood 
Hath us'd my brigsbip rongh and rude ; 
Ma.rdeep, tho' not so drumlie then 

[Z?!! >eeutasb, ' itohaa ' im y™--' 

W^lst „ eal h my arcb. the farmer's hay 
Was by the current swept aw «y ' 



86 

1* o some wife's cow, as fodder till her, 
As scant o' credit as o' siller. 

Th# harvest floods, tbey too bae borne, 
Frae aff the howms, the sheaves o' corn, 
And strew'd them on some leeward field, 
Where fouk hae reap'd wha never till'd ; 
But worst of a', the frosts and snaws, 
The heavy rains and sudden thaws, 
'Twixt bank and brae the^Nitha roll'd, 
And couMna, wonldna be control'*!, 
Red roaring onward to the sea. 
'Twas then a dreary time for me. 

At boards of ice, when seen afar, 
I've set my stibbly legs aspar ; 
Their heavy dash me bruis'd and wounded, 
Till a' the Klliock woods resounded. 
And far across the upper plain, 
The Yochan linns rung back again ; 
E'en Crawick, as wud as wud can be, 
Spent a* 'their foaming rage on me ; 
Whilk caus'd me aften stand aghast, 
For fear they'd bang me at the last. 
IVe likewise got uncanny botches 
Frae thoughtless Jehus driving coaches, 
Wha past me o'er wi' sic a birrel, 
That made my vera back to dirrel. 






87 



At dairaen time a coach and four, 
With gecking dames might pass me o'er, 
That shook and breez'd my fabric sair : 
But vvha would not oblige the fain 
If it be true that people say, 
'Twas for a noble lady gay, 
A Thane first cast my ponsive way. 
But, oh ! the carts that's o'er me gone, 
Of lime in shells frae Corsincone ; 
And mony a ane I've had to thole 
Throughout the year, wi' Sanquhar coal ; 
Besides the draughts that cross'd me still, 
In winter dark, for kiln and mill ; 
And add to these some thousand cattle 
Dri'en south to graze and make them fat all ; 
With droves of sheep, I canna say 
How many past in waesome raae : 
Belike they thought on bill and plain, 
And scenes they ne'er would see again. 
T ho' now the day be long and clear, 
The coming winter much I fear ; 
When darkness holds her dreary reign,. 
And spreads her veil o'er hill and plain v 
A thousand snares, unknown by day, 
Beset the nightly traveller's way. 

Now my Petition to curtail, 
And tell a plain and simple tale ; 
H 2 



88 



wad ye, sirs, besae obliging 
As to repair my broken ledging, 

1 yet might stand fu 1 trim and trig, 
Nor scare fouk at my iedgeless brig ; 
A.t Sanquhar, if they get a drappie 
Of Highland blue, or reaming nappie, 
Their heads are in a wofu' bizz ay, 
Cappernoited, doylt, and dizzy; 

The road, though wide, *s no wide eneugb. 

They're aften fa'ing i' the sheugb ; 

If from my arch they fa 1 amain, 

I doubt they'll never rise again, 

And though they're whiskified indeed, 

Their blude will hang aboon my head. 

Nae farther gane, the ither night, 
WV kelpie's sel' I got a fright; 
Tho mischief making sprite did seem 
To dance alang the gurly stream, 
And made a kind o' eldritch noise, 
Yd in its way seem'd to rejoice, 
And on my dimpling pool a lowe 
Of blinking light, inclined to blue, 
Whilk turn'd my head while looking on, 
And shook my vera heart o 1 stone. 

O wad Your Honours my condition 
Inspect, and grant my sma 1 Petition, 



89 

My grateful heart— as well it may~ 
Would for your welfare ever pray. 

ELLIOCK BRIDGE, 



ELLIOCK WOOD DRYAD, 

IN CONTINUATION OF THE FOREGOING. 

Ae July month, at e'ening's fall, 
Twa gentle dames frae Elliock Hall, 
Pursued their walk along the wood, 
To view the Nitha's crystal flood. 

The winds were in their cave asleep, 
Nor fann'd the trees, nor stirr'd the deep ; 
Each balmy flow'r, of various hue, 
Became a cup of lucid dew. 

As to the bridge they onward drew, 
The rising moon appear'd in view ^ 
Her rays the wood in silver clad, 
And chamber'd in the Nitha's bed, 
Where objects vast they might survey, 
C >uld not be seen by glare of day ; 
The fish seem'd white, the pebbles brighi 
Reflected to the moon- beam light. 
fl3 



00 



When lo, a voice assaiPd their ear, 

Evinced a female speaker near ; 

To Eiliock Bridge it straight began, 

As noted here, the tenour ran : — 

<; O'er Eiliock woods sae braid and wide, 

As guardian Dryad I preside; 

Some few days syne an ear I lent 

To thy petition and complaint, 

Preferred in vain : for from me learn, 

Thou soon shalt be a shapeless cairn : 

Another brig stand on thy stool, 

To overspan the darksome pool, 

Of granite grey from Yochan banks, 

Mair sleeve than e'er stood on thy shanks, 

Of modish mein, and dight fu* braw, 

In true masonic plummet law; 

And fear not kelpie's risive scorn, 

No wight that touts the reaming horn, 

Shall e'er be drown'd or break his neck, 

Whose genii shall his life protect. 

To Dryads and to bards are given 

The second sight — the boon of heaven." 

Thus spoke, and silence then ensu'd ; 
On turning round a form they \ie.. M, 
With skin as white as snawy drift, 
The fairest form aneath the lift ; 
Her cheeks were of a rosy hue. 
Which on fcer neck a radiance threw ; 



91 



Her diamond eyes excelled far 
The lustre of the evening star ; 
Her raven locks with graceful ease 
Mov'd to the gentle infant breeze ; 
A wreath of flow'rs adorn'd her brow ; 
Her snood, a band of velvet blue ; 
A golden zone her middle bound ; 
Her silken robe flow'd on the ground ; 
The ivy lacM her sandals sheen, 
Fram'd from the rind of holly green. 
And as they minted her to greet, 
She then began a swift retreat ; 
In vain their eyes her steps pursue, 
The copse-wood hid her from their view ; 
Thus left alone, their way explore 
To Elliock's splendid lofty bower. 



A TURKISH TALE, 

IN TWO CANTOS. 

Canto 3:. 

'Neath a hot sultry sun, on a green flow'ry plain, 
The Tripolitan host met the fierce Algerine, 
The turbaned warriors, in martial array, 
Shone, refulgently shone, to the God of the day. 



92 



At every new movement their blue sabres gleaming, 
And cool fanning breeze kept their red banners stream- 
ing, 
To the far distant eye. like a thick steely wood, 
Their hearts, like their sabres, are thirsting for blood. 

The signal tor carnage was mutually sounded, 

The hoarse hollow war-note the pure ether wounded, 

Each army rush'd forward, proud victory seeking, 

Till sabres, erst shining, were stained and reeking. 

O'er the dreadful attack, o'er the blood streaming fray, 

Gentle muse draw a veil, and let fancy pourtray. 

Like winds, when contending, the chieftains engaged, 

And fought like two armies for freedom enraged ; 

When a youth, at a distance, a brave Algerine, 

Saw his bloodcoverM sire fall flat on the plain; 

He rush'd to avenge him, but, weak the essay, 

By his vanquish'd companions he's hurry'd away ; 

In every direction for safety the\re flying, 

And none left behind but the wounded and dying. 

Then eyeing the sun, he emitted this, prayer: 

" From thy rise to thy setting, I'll follow the slayer 

Of my much-lov'd sire; nor will I take rest 

Till this keen thirsty weapon be bath'd in his breast." 

When moons, suns, and seasons, had posted away, 
The Tripolitan chief near the close of the day, 
In his wanderings arnv'd where th<* br=ive Algerine 
Had pitched his tent on a green grassy plain ; 



93 

As a guest he's receiv'd, where Hhro 1 night he remain' J, 
And, according to custom, was well entertain'd. 
When talking of battle, when talking of danger, 
The host soon perceiv'd, in his guest-lodged stranger, 
The man so long sought for, who killed his sire, 
Yet honour, strict honour, repressed his ire. 
Then he called a slave, a choice slave of bis own, 
Who conducted the guest to a couch made of down*. 
The host, too, retired, but not unto rest, 
For a tumult of passions burnt keen in his breast. 
*' Why sleepeth my sabre the scabbard intil, 
When my dear father's slayer's so much at my will ? 
On the tent-cover'd pillow he's now sleeping sound, 
But ere long he shall sleep in a sleep more profound, 
When his body's transpierced, and nail'd to the ground; 
But be hush, ye wild passions, let calm reason rule 1 
Should my knighthood be stain'd by an action so foul .' 
I will wait till the sun his day's journey renew, 
'Neath his beams he may flee, but I'll hotly pursue.'* 



Canto 3E& 

Soon as the light stream'd from the east, 
The wakeful host assaii'd his guest, 
And when he had his slumbers broke, 
To this effect he to him spoke : 
" From your relation plain I see 
My fathers foeman full in thee, 



94 

And I have made a solemn vov* 
My father's slayer to pursue 
From rising sun until that he 
Shall sink beneath the western sea. 
Some minutes yet must roll away, 
Before his beams can cheer the day ; 
My fleetest steed stands ready by, 
Haste up ! haste on ! ho I quickly fly. 
Another steed at my command, 
My slave is holding in his hand, 
Soon as the sun appears in view, 
Swift as the roe I will pursue ! 
If I overtake, thou'lt quickly feel 
The dint of my avenging steeL" 

The guest uprose, the steed bestrode, 
And scour'd along the pathless road, 
The height he pass'd *, some minutes flew 
Before the host appearM in view ; 
His charger fled as fleets the wind, 
But fleeter flew the steed behind. 
They scour'd the plain, they pass'd the wood, 
They clamb the hill, they swam the flood ; 
The one is urg'd by dread of harm, 
While vengeance nerves the other's arm, 
And when the day was nearly spent, 
The foremost spied his brethren's tent, 
Their shining spears seem'd in a blaze 
From Sol's declining golden rays. 



Oh help! Oh help! he cry'd aloud, 
He who pursues would shed my blood ; 
His spear's uprear'd to take my life ! 
To eud the chace, and vengeful strife, 
They elos'd him round — it elos'd the scene, 
And so defeat the Algerine. 

The moral of this tale may show 
Our days are number'd here h below* 



SENTIMENT, 

Spoken extempore, in a public company, on his Majesty* s return 
from Ireland, 1821. 



From Erin's fam'd land, may our Sovereign wi' speed 
Be now wafted o'er, since disloyalty's dead, 
Thro" Neptune's dominions, with a wind fair and full 
Till he land on the shore of his native John Bull. 

Brave Donald and Sandy, may the lot next be yours, 
To greet your lov'd King at Edina's high tow'rs, 
By such marks of affection — a wise nation's choice, — 
Cause the heart of their King and his people rejoice. 



96 



THE 

LAMENTATION, DEATH, & DYING WORDS 
OF A BLACK-FACED MOUNTAIN EWE, 

Sent the Author, by way of mart, from Mr W * 



Ohon! alas! what now I dree, 
They've firmly tied ray trotters three .; 

wad some butcher set me free 

O' pain and strife, 
And finish a' that troubles me 
In mortal life. 

Life's early morn and youth were spent 
In frisking o'er the flow'ry bent, 
My pasture rich, gave sweet content, 

And joy, and ease ; 
With pain and sorrow unacquaint, 

I spent my days. 

In simmer drought, the siller rill 
That todelt 'neath my pasture hill, 
Thereat I've aften drank my fill, 

Wi' mony mae, 
Then moopt or basked at our v» ill 

On sunny brae. 

1 never ran frae fell to fell ; 

The flower, the heath, the heather bell, 






07 

I nipt, wi' cronies like myself 

Wha hated thievin ? ; 

As shepherd VV weel can tell, 

We sought our leavin'. 

To help to pay his Grace's rent, 
I've daughters three upon the bent, 
My sons, as many aff were sent 

For sale I trow ; 
Our fleeces white, their aid have lent 

To packs o' woo. 

Yet after a', the fient may care, 

They drove me south, I know na where, 

My daily food and nightly lair 

A turnip field, 
A flaiky fauld, and naething mair, 

Was a' my beild. 

'Twas then I thought, but thought in vain, 
Upon my native hill and plain, 
Sair drookit wV the dribblm' rain, 

My restless mind 
Has trac'd the pleasures o'er again 

I left behind. 

The other day, a chiel thought meet, 
Wi* tauchy cord to tie my feet, 
My feckless heartie *gan to beat 

Wi' pain and grievin', 
i 



98 

Thinks I, I'm destin'd now for meat, 
Or belly steavin'. 

A rustic rude, with look alert, 
High heav'd me on a laden cart, 
At every shog I felt the smart 

O' grief and pain, 
Mair than a ewie can impart 

By bleat or grane. 

Like erring man, my days are short, 
Toss'd here and there, we're fortune's sport, 
But soon I'll to the goal resort, 

Will end the strife ; 
Without a tear or keen retort, 

Ml yield my life. 

Her race was run, and death her lot, 
The butcher shed her woolly coat, 
Syne rudely bar/d her yielding throat, 

And, strange to tell, 
Faintly, alas! these words she got, 

" Farewell, farewell !* 



LINES 

On coiling up a Young Man to the Plough on ajine May morning* 



Young Thomas, wake ! the early lark 
Now calls thee forth to mind thy wark, 



99 



And sleep hath strung thy nerves for toil, 
So yoke the plough and till toe soil. 
Haste to the field, my lad, and taste 
The sweets which rest on Nature's breast. 



LINES 

Addressed to a Young Woman, on her being admitted a Member 
of Christ's visible Church, by Baptism, at the age of 16. 

I greet thee, sister in the Lord ! 

W ho can his ways or workings trace, 
Who by his spirit and his word, 

Hath caus'd thee feel his sovereign grace. 

Give glory to the God above, 

Who sent his Son mankind to save ; 

This epithet, that " God is love," 
Let faith upon thy soul engrave. 

Give also glory to the Son, 

Who left his Father's throne on high, 

Our frame and nature to put on, 
That he might suffer, bleed, and die. 

What law and justice could demand, 

He's fully paid, us to restore 
To favour — and at God's right hand 

He reigns a Prince for evermore. 
I Z 



100 

From thence our ever-living head 
His spirit on the church doth pour, 

To influence our hearts, and shed 
His love abroad, in saving power. 

Great is the grace he hath in store, 
Which to his people here is given ; 

Faith, by the Spirit's mighty pow'r, 
Confirms our charter-right to heaven. 

Tho' vice should spread her gilded charm. 

Alluring only to destroy ; 
The Lord, by his Almighty arm, 

Will keep thy heart from all annoy. 

O trust bis arm and power divine, 
The gifts of promise in his word ; 

To's precepts still thy heart incline — 
They lack no good who seek the Lord 

Pray that your brethren far and near 
Like jou may also find a place 

Within his holy temple here. 

The sons and daughters of his grace. 

O mind those admonitions meet; 

Remember thy baptismal vow ; 
Keep earth's allurements 'neath thy feet, 

And heaven always in tby view. 



101 

And when we've run our Christian race, 
We'll meet upon a happier shore, 

Behold our Saviour face to face, 
And sing his glories evermore. 



LTNES 

On ivitnessing the Death of a beloved Child. 

How wan thy late red rosy cheek ! 

Thy lips, how pale are they ! 
Thy lovely eyes, now set in death, 

A thousand things could say. 

Now loosed is the silver chord, 
The wheel hath ceas'd to move, 

The bowl is broke, the spirit's fled 
To brighter worlds above. 

Thy prattling tongue, alas ! is mute, 
Such pleasing accents gave ; 

^gon must thou mix with kindred clay, 
And fill an early grave. 

A round thy couch the mourners stand, 

And shed the briny tear, 
Until thy parents far exceed, 

By nature, doubly dear, 
13 



102 

And whilst thy weeping parents gaze 

On thy once lovely face, 
Perhaps thy hovering spirit waits 

To see their last embrace. 

And whilst thy clay cold body's wrapt 

In shroud of linen white, 
Thy better part we hope's array'd 

In robes of spotless light. 

Then with angelic messengers, 

On wing thou glid'st along, 
Unto the palace of the King, 

To join the blessed throng. 

If friends and parents might behold 

Thy great felicity, 
They wou'd not grudge thy absence here. 

But long to be with tfcee. 

Oar sand of life will soon expend, 

And mix us with the clay, 
When friends in Christ will meet above, 

And swell the glorious lay. 






103 
LAMENT FOR WILLIAM JOHNSTONE 

OF ROUNDSTONEFOOT. 

Humbly inscribed to Capt. Johnstone and Sisters. 



A simple bardie wander'd forth 
To view pale Cynthia's silver beam, 
Now verging near the Yochan heights, 
Playd on sweet Nitha's crystal stream \ 
The distant wood in silver dight, 
The breekans wav'd like yellow corn, 
The river's murmur on the breeze, 
Sped up the vale to Corsincone. 

Far on the heath, the fleecy flock 
Seem'd like a lonely wreath of snow ; 
Bedown the vale, in nightly fold. 
The cattle had forgot to low ; 
The leaf was falling from the ash, 
The birk assum'd a wannish hue, 
The moon-beam, glittering on the leaves, 
Seem'd hoary locks now wet with dew. 

The hoolet hoo'd from hollow tree, 
Mair eerie by the hum of night ; 
The bard began to moralize 
On what now pass'd before his sight ; 
The whitish leaf resembles age. 
The fallen brown the tyrant's sway, 
The drops o' dew, the tribute tear 
Shed over life deserted clay. 



104 

The morn of youth, the flow'ry spring ; 
The fervid summer, manhood bright ; 
The ian est grain, time's bleached locks; 
Stern winter, death's long cheerless night. 
Thus musing, slowly home he sped, 
To yonder cot upon the lea, 
When lo ! he heard the voice of woe 
Beneath an aged thorny tree. 

On drawing near the spot, he found 
A matron grey, with grief oppress'd ; 
Unto his queries thus reply "d, 
To ease the sorrows of her breast : 
A loving husband bless' d my lot, 
By death bereft some years ago, 
And left me to bewail my fate, 
A weary pilgrim here below. 

My sympathizing master, kind, 
Oft eas'd the weeping widow's grief ; 
His counsels sage, like healing balm, 
Were poured in to my relief ; 
My cow hath with his cattle graz'd 
Upon the daisied flow'ry lea; 
No rent, throughout my widowhood, 
Save gratitude, was paid by me. 

The humble suppliants never told 
Their tale in vain, of deep distress ; 



105 

His sympathetic soul was touch'd, 
And still reliev'd them more or less : 
His generous spouse oft lent her aid 
Unto the houseless, helpless poor, 
Who pray'd for blessings on their head, 
While drawing from the open door. 

The vagrant train here found relief 
Whom vice and folly led astray ; 
Whilst Charity her hand extends, 
Wisdom points fair Virtue's way. 
The sons of Neptune and of Mars 
Became alike their special care ; 
The bulwarks of fair Scotia's isle, 
Her feeling children's bounty share. 

First in the train, his offspring dight 
In sable weeds, with heart sincere, 
The throbbing breast, the bitter sigh, 
The filial tributary tear. 
And Friendship, too, may join the wail 
For him so lately gone before, 
Her chords ne'er held a firmer tie, 
Nor twisted round a warmer core. 

Now cease to grieve, thou matron grey, 
The widow's husband lives on high, 
The father of the fatheiless 
Looks down with a propitious eye : 



106 

The friend who clingeth closer far 
Than ever brother could before, 
Will guide thee through the Jordan deep, 
And land thee on fair Canaan's shore. 



SANQUHAR'S LAMENT 

For the loss of their Pastor, the Rev. Mr R. 



pur Pastor's gone, his glass is run, 
And dead to all beneath the sun ; 
The heav'n-born soul ascends to glore, 
To worship still, and still adore. 
No more his spouse and children dear, 
Can hear his morn and evening prayer, 
To whom so large a gift was given, 
Life's circle lines met all in heaven. 

No more the word he will divide 
Unto his congregation wide : 
These to restrain from lolly's path — 
Those to build up in holy faith. 
Instructed well in heavenly lore, 
He shew'd the way he trode before, 
And led them in the narrow road, 
That leads through Jesus Christ to God. 

His action sermons comfort shed, 
In blessing of symbolic bread ; 






lor 

The accents from his lips then fell, 
But few could equal, few excel; 
Deep silence reign'd these woids to hear, 
The drooping soul they well might cheer, 
The wavering, by divine behest 
And faith, became a welcome guest. 

Now fled, now fled from us away, 
He basks in everlasting day, 
Where no dark cloud can intervene 
To veil the beatific scene : — 
O may his flock around him throng 
And join the high seraphic song ; 
New glories beat the heavenly flame,— »• 
Redeeming love's an endless theme. 

AN ODE 

-ON THE DEATH OF MRS , 



Now smiling Spring all Nature's face renews, 
The lily opes its bosom to the dews, 
Again the woods are clad in foliage green, 
The tuneful tribes enhance th' enlivening scene, 

The milk-white hawthorn blooms bedown the vale, 
Adorns my evening walk, and scents the gale ; 
vFair Nature spreads her carpet 'neath my feet, 
And flow'rets Wild my ravish'd senses greet. 



108 

As on sweet Nitha's banks^ I often rove, 
In contemplation wrapt, and tender love, 
Behold yon silver orbs so brightly shine, 
And in their motions trace the hand divine. 

Or if my lovely ***** with me stray, 
Each scene can please, and all is doubly gay ; 
The daisy'd mead, the blossom scented breeze, 
The silver moon-beam chequ'ring through the trees 

The rivers murmur on the breezes swell, 
Ascends the stream, and dies along the hlil ; 
The breeze succeeding breeze, such joys impart 
As charm the ear, and captivate the heart 

Of all the flow'rs that in life's walk appear, 
The choicest flowVs my lovely ***** dear; 
We lov'd — we wed— swift fled the raptur'd hours, 
None happier were, save those in Eden's bow'rs. 

As frosts in spring oft nipt with chilly breath, 
My flow'r was blighted by the blast of death, 
All in her prime, she quickly disappears, 
And left me mourning in this vale of tears. 

Ten short-liv'd months had quickly o'er us flown, 
When she in travail brought me forth a son ; 
Dead to the feelings of a mother's joy, 
Liv'd twice eight days, and left her darling boy. 



109 

Whilst I lament, one ray of comfort gleams, 
My child the image of his mother seems, 
I gaze with rapture on his infant charms, 
And feast my sight, till all my bosom warms. 

Dear, smiling babe, how tranquil thou remain'st, 
Unconscious of the loss thou now sustain'st ; 
Tn the cold arms of death thy mother sleeps, 
Whilst tby dejected father o'er thee weeps. 

Thou, who art love itself, from heaven look down, 
Console the father, guide the infant son; 
For His dear sake who died upon the tree, 
Let all our wellsprings ever be in thee. 

Cease, mourner, cease, dry up the falling tears, 
In yonder radiant cloud a band appears 
Arrayed in light, the sky with music rings, 
Amongst the throng thy mate a seraph sings. 

Why heaves thy lab'ring breast with bitter woe., 
Then cease those drops which unavailing flow ; 
The sacred page, to be thy guide is given, 
In life's dark maze, to point the path to heaven. 

Let resignation's bolt fast bar the gate 
Of discontent— the time appointed wait ; 
Fight like a Christian soldier, brave and true, 
Immortal honours shall surround thy brow. 

K 



I JM ^ ■■■ I. ■ -Till '-'r^^xrs- .^- -*_^\-L_Lai 



110 

Thy armour laid aside, all, all but love, 
Then join thy mate in yonder throng above, 
With saints and angels swell the glorious lay 
Throughout the round of everlasting day. 

— <o*^o— 

EPICEDIUM ON MISS E W . 

" 'Tis virtue only triumphs o'er the tomb." 
The fairest flow'r on Nitha's dale 
Lies blighted, pale in ruddy bloom, 
And friends unfeignedly bewail 
Her fate, who fills an early tomb ; 
Whilst fair associates, whom she movM among, 
Repeat her spotless virtues in a song. 

Nor grandeur gay, nor wealth, nor beauty, 

Nor manners mild — stern death could sway ; 

Sincerity, nor filial duty, 

Could here procure a longer stay ; 

For sure fair virtue's robe the Pow'rs require 

Of those preferrM to strike the golden lyre. 

Dear sainted shade, was it thy choice 

To leave this lonely vale of tears, 

With kindred spirits to rejoice 

Throughout an endless round of years ? 

Or dost thou from the height of glory know 

And view, well-pleas'd, the virtuous here below? 






Ill 

Ye guardian angels, did ye claim 

Her bence, to shine a brighter star 

Within your courts V obtain a name 

Better than sons and daughters far ? 

Or did ye grudge her beauteous mortal clay, 

By death defac'd, and from us reft away? 

That weeping friends their loss may brook, 

O ! grant them consolation's balm, 

And faith beyond this vale to look, 

The poignant grief within to calm. 

One glimpse, I ween, of that celestial glore ? 

Would banish discontent for evermore. 

A few more suns, perhaps, may roll, 

When friends in Christ again shall meet, 

Obtain at length the wishM-for goal, 

And triumph in a joy complete. 

Thou great I AM, O grant thy heav'nly ray, 

The sure presage of that eternal day ! 



• ♦•■ 



PRESBYTERIAN DREAM. 



When bright beaming Phoebus had closed his eye, 
And night had unfurled her flag in the sky, 
An old presbyter ian, slow, sad, and alone, 
Went to muse on the days and the years that are gone. 
K 2 






112 

To the Temple of Sanquhar his steps were incliifd, 
When the tidings of joy rushed full on his mind, 
He'd heard from the rostrum of late and of yore, 
And now from that place he would hear them no more. 

Though pleasing thy servants and people of old, 
Condemned by their offspring for faults to be told, 
Of space over scanty, long, darksome, and narrow. 
Destruction awaits thee — commences to-morrow. 

How often in manhood, how often in youth, 
in thy hallow'd fane I have listen'd the truth ; 
Oh ! had they but spar'd thee a space very small, 
I had slept with my fathers, nor witness'd thy fall. 

What, tho* a new Temple, capacious and grand, 

On part of thy basis, yet shortly may stand, 

Where masons, and joiners, and artizan's may 

Bedeck it with pillars and canopies gay ; — 

But when will such gewgaws compare with tby walls, 

Jn hot persecution withstood cannon balls? 

With the next rising sun thou'it be rent and be torn. 

Where many a soul unto Sion's been born. 

Thus ending his speech, headvanc'd to the door 

By which he had enterM so often before ; 

On calling and knocking, no entrance he found, 

lor silence there reigned, a silence profound ; 

In grief-swollen thought, round the church bent his way 

O'er the ashes oi those who lay slumbering in clay. 



113 



No voice could be heard save the voice of the breeze 

That stirr'd the young leaves of the old beechen trees, 

Still hoping, expecting some omen to spy, 

Directed his view to the star-spangled sky ; 

The half-waned moon in a cloud nearly lost, 

Shot long feeble rays like a dim sheeted ghost ; 

Thro' the thick branchy trees, on the wall they shone 

forth, 
There flitting and fighting, like lights in the north, 
Which, viewing with pleasure, then homewards he strode, 
To rest his frail limbs in his wonted abode. 

Tho* 1 his age-wearied frame to the couch he resign 'd, 

Yet who can upbridle the flights of the mind ; 

On the fleet wing of fancy, new objects to trace, 

It skimmeth through regions of unbounded space ; 

Or stationed, as here, yet how busily teem 

.From the mint of the brain, in the subsequent dream. 

From his former lov'd station about to retire 
He perceiv'd in the east a large globe of fire ; 
Its dazzling radiance, what pen can unfold ? 
Outshining, in splendour, the burnished gold ; 
The stars, from its lustre, began to decay, 
They twinkled, they shrunk, and they vanish'd away. 
Not long had he looked and look'd in amaze, 
It began for to move and emitted a blaze, 
Illumin'd the earth, while it whizz'd in the air, 
And towards the gazer made rapid repair ; 
k3 



« . 



114 



Still brighter and louder, ia gradual descension, 

Till lost to his view, from the kirk's intervention.— 

Here wonder on wonder his senses arrest, 

Twas the sound of such music afar in the east ; 

So sweet and melodious, so soft and so slow, 

As never was heard by a mortal below. 

Perhaps 'twas a band of the heavenly choir 

That well could the soul of devotion inspire ; 

And if his ideas he only could trust, 

Their harps were attun'd to the song of the just; 

On earth's finest music he thought with a sigh, 

Outvied so far by the song of the sky ; 

Still .swelling and thrilling, as nearer it came, 

His bosom, on fire, burst out in a flame ; 

O'erpowered with joy, there appeared to his sight, 

The sweet singing choir, arrayed in light. 

Aloof in the air, that but faintly he scans, 

Their crowns on their heads, and their harps in their hands. 

On nearing bis station, he plain could behold 

The fingers that stray'd o'er the harps of pure gold ; 

But. all on a sudden, they ceased to play, 

And the hrart-melting music died softly away : 

Then one of the choir the gazer address'd, 

And, as he stood listening, the saint thus express'd, 

* 4 In death's dreary mansions tho' lowly we lie, 

Our spirits are serving Jkhovah on high. 

Save when we descend from the Temple above, 

In errands of xnerc\ — ::: errands of love ; 



115 



In dreams and in visions we often arrest 

The rude ruling passions which harass the breast ; 

Their hearts, newly moulded, to God fleetly soar* 

So sweetly constraint in a day of his power, 

The Lord, by his servants, his people will guide 

By green gospel pastures, where smooth waters glide ; 

And in this new Temple thou seeraest to mourn, 

Shall many a soul unto Sion be born. 11 

Three times round the Temple successive they flew. 

Then, hovering above it, they slowly withdrew, 

His eye keenly tracing their long robes of light, 

Till lost in the ether, till lost to his sight ; 

Yet still he stood gazing, and listening to hear, 

While the far distant music dies soft on the ear. 

To the Palace above they sing and they soar, 

He thought that he heard when he heard them no more ; 

Then wish'd for the wings that might bear him away, 

But's flight was restrain'd by z body of clay. 



LINES, 

Occasioned .by James Gleneairn Burns requesting a quart bottle of tfafe 

Punch drunk at his Father's anniversary birth-day club, and to 

forward the same to Calcutta by the earliest opportunity. 



Far, far from auld Scotia, in armour array 'd, 
Where a more potent sun sheds his rays on thy head, 
Where herbs, fruits, and flowers luxuriantly grow, 
Where there's no hills of heather, nor mountains of snow 



-*£ 



116 



Where a hot sun's exhaling the bright morning dew, 
Yet his heat so intense, hata no power over you, 
Since the dew of affection hath bathed thy breast, 
Which for sire and country with time hath increas'd. 

Hail, hail to thy fancy, that a view can afford 

Of the Poet* s warm friends, round the daintith clad board, 

Yet the best of the dishes, and fairest to view, 

Is a Haggis distilling the bead amber dew. 

And hail to the bowl when it's brimfull of toddy, 
It brightens the wit and enlivens the body ; 
Then each true hearted member his finger upturns, 
And ciuaffs off a bumper to the memory of Burns. 

In the dark weeds of woe, still thy mother is clad, 
Jn the Poet, bewailing her husband long dead, 
Whilst associate ladies, in kindness, bestow 
Sweet sympathy's balm to soften her woe. 

No wonder, brave youth, as a true Burnian stem, 
That thou crav'st as a boon a full quart of the same, 
With thy friends to partake it, how vast are the odds, 
O'er the fabled Nectar, the drink of the gods. 

When friends, kin, and country, in fancy's bright eye, 
Like the waves of old ocean, incessant roll by 
The woods and the mountains, the rivers and plains, 
Endear d to thy bosom, by thy sire's soft strains. 



117 



O thoughts ever cheering, that allude to the day 
Of the soldier's return, all these scenes to survey, 
To the arms of thy country, thy friends, and thy wife,» 
And fame sheds a halo on the evening of life. 



EPITAPHS. 



ON A BREWER. 

My browst is brewn, my yill is drunk, 
My barrel lies in cellar dunk, 
Whose wooden walls to ruin must, 
And barrel moulder down to dust. 

But when auld Time slides out of view, 
Each barrel then will be made new •, 
Tho 1 they since Adam's days had lain, 
They'll all be filled with yill again. 



ON A BLACKSMITH, 

Who died suddenly. 

My sounding anvil now is mute, 
My tools they all lie here and there, 
My bellows breathless, fire gone out, , 
Which ends life's toil and weary care. 



US 

ON A DEBAUCHEE. 

Here lies the debauchee, by vice o'erthrown, 
Cut off in ripen'd manhood's ruddy bloom ; 

To human view not half his days had flown, 
When torn from pleasure's lap to fill the tomb. 



ON MR J- 



The ae best friend, the friend of truth, 
The staff of age, the stay of youth, 
The sacred page his only guide, 
1 His failings lean'd to virtue's side.' 



ON MR B- 



Lo ! in this narrow spot, there lies interred 
The husband, father, and the friend rever'd, 
To God resignM ;— on wings of faith and love 
His soul took flight, to brighter worlds above. 

ON A YOUNG LADY. 

Boast not of beauty, nor of wealth, 
Of grandeur great, which many prize, 

Of ruddy vigour, nor of health, 
At Death's chill breath the flow'ret dies. 

ON THE AUTHOR'S FATHER. 

The loving husband, and the parent kind, 
A friend to virtue and to vice a foe, 

An honest man, not sordidly inclin'd, 

By death's all levelling hand here lieth low. 



119 

ON A CHILD. 

Sublunar loans, lent for a day, 
The Lord at pleasure calls away, 
Nor should we fret beneath the rod, 
Since children are made heirs of God, 
Before his throne they're crown'd with bays, 
And tune their harps in mercy's praise. 



THE AGREEABLE MISTAKE. 



Damon had his couch forsaken 
Air asteer, he stept frae hame, 

In merry August, up to waken 
A friend to take the hained game. 

W hether now by fate he's erring, 

Or some spirit inly led. 
The right unto the left preferring, 

Burst upon his charmer's bed. 

Saftly sweet and sound she's sleeping, 
Naething now to gi'e alarms, 

Little kens she wha is keeping 
Watch owre a' her killing charms. 



120 

A' ye muircocks, paitricks, plovers, 

Ye may birr the heath alang, 
Damon owre a pout now hovers, 

Gars him sing; anither sang. 

As he view'd the lovely creature, 
Blooming like a spotless bride, 

Beauty shone in every feature, 
Love had nearly stept aside. 

Shall I now embrace my dearie, 
Round her neck my arms entwine, 

Reason whispers, O be wary, 
Or for ay her favour tine. 

Frae her ruby lips are streaming 

Words half formed, and quickly gone, 

Aiblens of myself she's dreaming, 
Faintly utters, dear Damon. 

If her fancy should get higher, 
She may wake and gaze on me ; 

Softly now I maun retire, 
Tho* ahin my heart I lea'. 

Ye gods wba rule the fate a* mortals, 
Mete to ilka ane their share, 

Frae your high ha* keek thro' the portals. 
Grant me Sue. I'll ask nae raair. 



121 

WALLACE'S MARTIAL SUCCESS, AND, ACCI- 
DENTAL GRATIFICATION. 

" A Tale of the times of o/d."~ OssiAN. 



When Edward's perfidy enslav'd the land, 

And Scotland's King unto him homage gave, 
Sir William Wallace for her rights did stand, 

In freedom's cause drew forth the glittering glave ; 
His native soil from tyranny to save, 

He almost single-handed took the field ; 
Tho' few his men, yet Scottish heroes nrave, 

The Southron, at Dumbarton, made to yield, 
Th' Omnipotence himself was their defence and shield. 

But to reflect on Stirling's stately towVs 

And Stirling bridge, how many Southrons fell ! 
Here England yields to a few Scottish pow'rs, 

And there, their blood the crystal currents swell : 
Their leagu'd surviving brethren faint and fail, 

Their golden dragon and their armour threw 
Upon the ground, again ne'er to assail 

Auld Scotia, nor her free-born sons subdue, 
And by the god of armies pledg'd them to be true. 

The due arrangement with the prisoners made, 
The Scottish troops the vanquish'd to convey 

On horse, on foot, in burning armour clad, 
From Stirling they homeward bend their way. 
h 



J 22 

Bat oh! the horror and the wild dismay, 

Many a fabric fair in ashes laid • 
Their owner's property become a prey, 

Even caves a shelter for their houseless head , 
From whence they sally, and on Wallace cry for bread. 

Thus spoke the herd to his soldiers brave — 

rt This scene, affecting, wrings my very heart ; 
With your consent our brethren to Telieve, 

This day's provision we'll to them impart." 
Their roused feelings sprung with joy alert, 

Their hungry, houseless exiles to supply ; 
And as the generous army from them part, 

" God speed brave Wallace!'* earnestly they cry, 
" To stem invasion's tide, and save his country." 

The prisoners tread once more their native soil, 

Wives, sisters, lovers, glad their ov?n to see, 
The English tables groan with roast and boil, 

To feast the Scottish Chiefs and soldiery ; 
Yet while they feast, they mind the penury 

Of plundered Scots, immurd in lonely cell ; 
Them to supply with English harvest free, 

They make the Scottish granaries to swell, 
'Gainst coming winter storms, and coming want more fell. 

Let no brave Scotsman heave a sigh or moan ! 

Behold yon conquering army's might}* load, 
With English wheat the waggon axles groan, 

And, as they shog, deep rut the rugged road. 



123 



The vanguard helmets now majestic nod, 
As to the Scottish castles home they pass, 

There to take up the winter's bein abode, 

While Wallace takes his rout by Lord-loch-awe's, 
And other northern Chiefs, embark'd in freedom's cause. 

And at his Lordship's, round the festive board, 

The Scottish Nobles cheerfully repair, 
December's latest hour with one accord 

To spend, and welcome in the coming year ; 
Wine, mirth, and beauty now beguile their care; 

Whilst Donald screws his pipes with tuneful glee, 
The well-try'd heroes mingle with the fair 

Upon the floor, to fit it merrily. 
Whilst eild sits at tUe dowi, well pleas'd gay youth to see. 

The Regent Wallace, now overcome with grief, 

In scenes of merriment could ill partake ; 
In solitude he sought to find relief, 

Upon the margin of a crystal lake, 
To Elderslie and Marion all awake; 

The dinsome bagpipes still offend his ear, 
Which to avoid, he kept his onward walk, 

Where gusty winds the sound might cease to bear, 
For scenes of other days in fancy's eye appear. 

Tenacious mem'ry harrows up his soul 
Like swollen river, sweeping all amain $ 

Mocking the feeble efforts of control, 
Paints his lovely Marion basely slain 



124 



By Hazlerigg, in ruthless proud disdain, 

Who drew his sword and pierc'd her bosom fair j- 

And, on its point to dye a deeper stain, 
Wallace the traitor slew in wild despair — ; 
Next Scotia's welfare occupies his care. 

Still pressing on, he climbs the heathy height 

Which overlooks Ber>crauchan's pleasant vale, 
While drifting clouds exclude the cheering light, 

By turns emitting snow and sleety hail ; 
Yet nought to stay his progress could prerail, 
' Till with young Archibald coming in contact, 
Tn course, the weaker of the two mnst fail, 
The shepherd's sprawling laid upon his back, 
And each now blames the drift for tins unseen attack. 

Uprear'd on Wallace's arm. so hang the youtb, 

And thus began his story to relate, 
From heart sincere pourd out the naked truth, 

He at a neighbour's had been dancing late, 
With a sweet lass who soon should be his mate, 

Their interests blent by Hymen's silken band, 
Since Wallace bad the Southron defeat, 

And of the maundering loons had rid the land ; 
But please step on, my father's cot is near at hand. 

What made me run so fiercely through the drift, 
Was to complete my father's family, 

And lend the new-year's morning byran a lift. 
But hark ! they hear the sound of melody, 



12o 



The artless notes beget a holy joy ; 

While to the humble roof they're drawing near, 
The door, unlatch'd, spontaneous springs ajee, 

Then in the solemn hymn a part they bear;. 
To Him who sees the heart, is such devotion deai\ 

On bended knees, and hands uplift to heav'n, 

The hoary sire prays most fervently 
To Him, his well-beloved Son has given, 

To expiate our guilt upon the tree, 
From its condemning pow'r to set us free, 

And re-engrave God's image on the soul ; 
His word and spirit should our guidance be, 

Our stubborn wayward passions to controul, 
Till we by active faith should gain the heav'nly goal. 

w O Thou, who meteth out for men below 

What best befits them in this vale of tears, 
Thou, that alone in mercy doth bestow 

Their habitation's bound, and leagth of years, 
And still to them their native soil endears, 

W-hen cruel crafty foes would them enthrall — 
I bless thy name that thou hast heard my pray'rs, 

And out of love, our enemies scatterM all, 
Who thought to tyrannise, and plotted our downfall." 

'J'hus having pray'd, concluded with Amen, 
The knee unbent, uprose the holy sire, 

Archibald invites the drookit stranger ben, 
To warm and dry him at the bleezing fire 3 
L3 



126 



The good wife syne his dreepin' plaid require, 

And wrung't half dry, and hang it o'er a chair ; 
While Jeany's lily hand forgets to tire, 
In robbing dry the stranger's golden hair r 
Thus done, the family round the humble board repair. 

The simple soup just reeking from the pot, 

The crurapie bannocks which the good dame bake?, 
A tasty cheese aye annually they got, 

With a large basket of good oaten cakes— 
And of this cheer each heartily partakes; 

The good man press'd the stranger not to spare : 
Our best on New-year's morn, the goodwife makes, 

Mean though it be, ye're welcome to a share, 
And Lord-loch-awe, with all his giving, ca'nt give mair. 

The board withdrawn, around the ingle clear, 

In a close ring, they bienly take their place, 
The unknown stranger lends a willing ear, 

Whilst hoary Archibald his life's steps retrace, 
And blythe runs o'er projected marriages, 

Of sons and daughters blown to ripen*d age — 
Which soon woyld be since Wallace had brought peace, 

And stopt the Tyrant's wild ambitious rage, [page. 
Whose crimson'd deeds had stain'd fair England's 'storic 

The goodwife talks of fairies, ghaists, and witches, 
And sic like beings a' asteer that nigh! ; 

Some slum the air on rag- weed and broom switches, 
Where wine is best, in France or Spam, alight •> 



127 

While sptmkie oft decoys the drunken wight, 
In some moss-hag gi'es him a filthy fa ; — 

But now through wooden winnocks beams the light, 
Which warns the time deceived guest awa' — 
Auld Arch, would see him o'er the hill unto Loch-awe. 

And reason'd thus: 1 might the Regent spy, 

Since fame reports last night he should be there, 
The sight might serve to talk of till I die. 

"And/' quoth the dame, «• could Ibis glance but share r 
I'd a' the yarn gi'e in the kist and roair." 

" 'Gainst witches cantrips it would be a charm,*' 
Says Jean, " gin I'd a pickle o* his bair ; 

By a true lover's knot, my Joe I*d arm 
Against our Southron foes, if they should seek his barm." 

Behold your Regent, in this simple guise. 

He to the wondering family made reply ; 
The strange discovery gave them much surprise, 

Nordeign'd their humble suits for to deny. 
Auld Archibald gaz'd, and Janet caught bis eye, 

More condescending, lifts a pair o' shears — 
Gave Jean a pickle o' his hair, to tie 

To her love's breast, to fend from bloody weirs, 
And in this firm belief evanish'd a' her fears. 

In love and gratitude they cling aroun' 

Their country's safety and their country's guard — 

He as a father rais'd them one by one, 
Who Scotia's children as his own regard ; 



128 



And frankly with the youth his purse he shared — 
To be their dowry on their wedding day, 

And that the Lord might be his great reward ; 
With brimfull eye in fervency they pray, 
He migles tears with their' s— shakes hands — and hastes 
away. 

ADVENTURE OF KING JAMES THE FIFTH, 

IN TWO CANTOS. 

<£anto I-. 

Our royal sires thought nae shame, 

Incognito to stray frae bame; 

Their nation's weal so much they prized, 

In humble peasant weeds disguis'd, 

Left courts and camps, where flattery dwelfe, 

To hear the honest rustic's tales. 

From shepherd swain, on mountain brow, 

Nor post, nor pension made to bow ; 

From heart sincere, and guileless mouth, 

Spontaneous dropt the naked truth. 

Well pleas'd he views his fleecy charge, 

Beneath his eye. to feed at large ; 

If some should stray by cleugb or glen, 

With care he brings them back again; 

Or if diseas'd — in tender love 

He tries the evil to remove ; 



129 

Or, if the greedy reavin' todd 

Should spill some guiltless lammie's blood; 

Takes ways and means to catch the thief, 

Lest he attempts a second rief. 

The King, like to some shepherd swain, 

Overlooks his subjects on the plain, 

And guides them still by wholesome laws, 

Removes the evil in its cause ; 

Their staunchest foeman still pursue, 

And kill the todd in Roderick Dhu.* 

Our preface done, now muse relate 

A story of an ancient date : — 

When James Fitz-James, like peasant clad, 

Made love unto a country maid, 

His kind addresses, not in vain, 

She felt, she sigh'd, and lov'd again. 

The lover's hour, how passing short, 

That leaves them only fortune's sporty 

Withdrawing oft the cup of joy, 

Ere half its sweets begin to cloy ; 

Behind, the most delightful scene, 

The basest foe may lurk unseen, 

Close muffled in night's darksome shade, 

Conceal his aim and thirsty blade ; 

Or, if he miss th' unwary prey, 

Enrag'd, attacks in open day. 

In vain the leaden god may try, 

To seal the watchful lover's eye. 

• A noted freebooter.— See Scott's ' Lady of the LaliS 



130 

At Annie's winnock, keeking through, 

Her Joe perceives, by ingle low, 

A stranger pree her hinny mou', 

And to embitter mair his case, 

She tamely meets his fond embrace. 

Enraged quite, an oath he swore, 

Then sought his glave, and watched the door : 

JVly happy rival soon shall feel 

The dint of my avenging steel — 

Before the sun can tinge the sky, 

He sprawling on the gronnd shall lie. 

The light upon the darkness bears, 

Lo ! in the east the sun appears, 

Dispelling love's delusive dreams, 

Like yellow hair, his golden beams, 

Play'd on the Almond's silver streams ; 

But James, a formal welcome guest, 

Participates the morn's repast, 

Before he left his night's abode, 

And bade farewell, to take the road. 

His disappointed mortal foe, 

Who aim'd a deep and deadly blow ; 

Dark and more dark his purpose grew— 

Unto his aid four ruffians drew, 

All to beset the stranger's way, 

To stop his flight, and basely slay, 

Attacked him on the brig o' Cramond, 

Which overspans the river Almond : 



131 

'Twas here onr hero made his stand, 
And drew his glitt'ring trusty brand ; 
No shield had he their blows to ward, 
The narrow arch his only guard, 
Nor darM to come in close contact, 
Lest they might get behind his back ; 
Or in his side a weapon graze, 
Syne by a thrust to end his days. 
The clashing of their gleaming steel 
Fell on the ear of thresher chiel. 
Who busy in a neighbouring barn, 
With speed the fray ran out to learn ; 
Dame Justice now became his guide, 
In haste be joind the weaker side, 
So fitly play'd the flingm' tree, 
He made their swords in flinders flee, 
Syne clank for clank out owre the croun, 
Until the red blood trinkFd down, 
Each well aim'd blow he hameward sent, v 
And thresh'd them to their hearts' content ; 
Our hero too you may suppose, 
Amang them dealt unsonsy blows ; 
By hasty flight the fivesome yield, 
Left two the masters of the field : 
James briefly thank'd the generous man, 
Who to his aid so promptly ran. 

" No thanks, no praise, to me are due, 
What tho' ye'd been a Turk or Jew, 



132 

'Twas natural justice in the weir 
That brac'd my arm and banish'd fear ; 
But to this barn step on wi' me, 
Where you may rest and crack a wee." 

As they sat cracking on the sheaves, 
The stranger, of the thresher, craves 
Some water soft, without delay, 
In bason clean, to wash away 
The crimsonM stains of this affray, 
Besides a towel, him to dry, 
That naetbing might offend the eye ; 
Which having got he keenly pushes, 
To know the threshers utmost wishes 
Of earthly bliss, in future station, 
And thus be faintly made confession : 
" My highest wish, my highest meed, 
Is to be laird of the Braehead, 
On which I toil for daily bread." 

" Gif on that score I you can serve, 
'Tis nought but what you weel deserve^ 
Without your aid, th* unequal strife 
Had likely ended with ray life. 
To visit Reekie, if you should, 
Be sure to ca' at Holyrood, 
Speer for the guidman o' Ballangeigb, 
Ve hae nae cause to stand abeigh — 
Pot luck wi' me you then shall share. 
Wi' liquor good to banish care.'' 



133 

Thus having said, with aspect bland, 
He kindly shook him by the hand, 
Syne wheeling round in blytbsome mood, 
He took the gate for Holy rood. 



>*~#^ 



-Canto 3E3E, 
The day had clos'd his weary e'e, 
When good Fitz- James most privately. 
To Royal lodgings made repair, 
Fatigu'd with travel, toil, and care. 
Tho* thus^lisguis'd, the guards him knew, 
And op'd the gate to let him thro 1 ; 
The Monarch sought his wardrobe gay, 
And sheath'd himself in fit array ; 
For supper rang the usual bell, 
And yaply to his meltith fell ; 
Keen hunger gave a zest to all, 
Hut seldom felt in Royal hall. 

Ere he his frame to couch resigned, 
That day's events recall'd to mind ; 
With anxious care his bosom wrought, 
And out the book of records sought, 
W herein he found — with joy indeed— 
That the braw mailen of Braehead, 
By regal right, was a' his own ; 
44 And this," quoth he, " I will dispone 
To my deliverer, thresher John." 

M 



134 

"Heturn, my muse, return with speed, 
Unto the43arn of the Braehead, 
Where Johnnie ply'd the flinging tree, 
The golden grain from straw to free ; 
His manly breast with mystery wrought, 
And thus express'd his benmost thought : — 

" Since fickle fortune's-on me smil'd, 
I yet may be her favourite child ; 
£he's brought me safely through the strife, 
'Against such odds, with limb and life; 
To me and mine, though hid to view, 
Her partial favours may accrue * 
I'll try to get some orra straw, 
And syne ask leave to get awa' ; 
When our guid man's in pliant mood, 
I long to visit Holyrood." 

Sax times the sun had cheerM the day, 
When Johnnie, bless'd with routh o' strae. 
-Sought of his master, steppin' roun', 
A day's respite to see the town. 
Cl Dear master, I would happy be, 
If youM permission grant to me — 
Auld Reekie's tow'rs I long to see ; 
The ferlies there, sae rare, sae rife, 
I never saw in a' my life."" 
To which he frankly gi'ed consent 
John dress'd himsel*, and aff he went 



13£ 

With hasty step in joyous mood, 

He soon acriv'd at Holyrood, 

Where, without story lang or dreigh, 

Speer'd for the guidman o* Ballangeigh. 

The wary porter speer'd his name, 

A little page convey'd the same 

Unto their Royal master's ear, 

Who straight replied, " go bring him here.' 

The bolt sand bars they soon undo, 

From gate to gate he passed thro' ; 

The Life-guards, as he onward passed, 

Gave honour to the welcome guest. 

In royal hall around he gaz'd, 
In thought bewilder'd and amaz'd, 
When good Fitz- James salutes his ears, 
And banish' d a' his panic fears ; 
Meantime, in love his hand he shook, 
And gave a most complaisant look^ 
•• To uio you're welcomer by far, 
Than him adorn'd with string or ator , 
'Tis to your bravery in the strife, 
I owe my welfare and my life.** 

The wings of time the hour drew near, 
In royal hall the dainty cheer, 
The cloth was spread, the feast came on, 
The Monarch din'd with thresher John, 
m2 



136 

The muse thinks proper to forbear 
To name each dish presented there ; 
Yet well it might be understood, 
They all were rich, and rare, and good \ 
Nor w ill she of their drinking tell— * 
'Twas such as suited best themsel\ 
Some twa-three bumpers they might ply, 
To raise the soul of friendship high ; 
The grand saloon they made to ring, 
And John's as happy as the King;. 
But last of all. and that his bliss is 
The cope-stoue of his highest wishes, 
Malr welcome than a belt or garter, 
Fitz-James presents him with a charier,. 
To him and his, in royal deed, 
Unto the lands of the Braehead, 
To moss and moor, to lea and rig ; 
That when the King cross'd Cramond brig, 
A ewer, towel, and a bason, 
Should be presented by a Huwaboa , 

This tias in lieu of all bis lands — ■ 

To wash the King of Scotland's hands. 

King George the Fourth had left his throne 

To visit ancient Caledon ;, 

The royal barge, through a rough sea, 

Arrived at the Leithan quay ; 

And to Edina's lofty tow'rs- 

The flow"r of Scotia onward pours, 



137 

To join the royal retinae, 

And some the cavalcade to view ; 

The splendid treat, the taste refin'd, 

The present age will bear in mind.— 

Among his servants in the ring, 

A lineal Howatson serves the King, 

Nor mode, nor form omitted none ; 

For when the royal banquet's done, 

The Monarch deign'd to wash his hands, 

And Howatson still retains his lands* 

The subject's done : for moral I 
The auld Scots proverb may apply— 
'Tis an ill wind, though rairin' loud. 
That disna blaw somebody good . 

— — <z>^<^<^> 

FLEEMING'S DREAM. 

Brave Fleeming beheld, by the vision of dream,' 
Stern Edward the Longshanks, on Kirtle's clear stream, 
Advance with his army, in battle array, 
The bands of the Border in conflict to slay. 

The Tow'r of Redhall awaits as thy pyre, 
For Edward attacks thee with sword and with fire; 
The merciless foemen are posting amain, 
To crimson the war field with blood of the slain. 
M 3 



138 



If thou would'st escape, to the north thou musf fly,. 
Else thou and thy kinsmen are destin'd to die, 
Under shade of some clan a while to remain, 
Till Edward, grown weary, returns home again. ' 

" Away from my fancy, ye visions of night, 
Ko daemon of England shall Fleeming affright — 
No ghost of my lather's the phantom can be, 
Advising the son of a Fleeming to flee* 

When the tide of invasion had mightily swell'd. 
By aid of the Fleemings the tide was repell'd, 
And ere 1, their descendant, from battle refrain, 
The Kirtle* shall sooner roll red to the main," 

The vision of fancy deserted his mind, 
He awoke, and arose from the couch where reclin'd, 
Assembled his kinsmen, and made them acquaint 
With his dream, which portended some dire event. 

By the Genius of Scotland, they swore, one and all, 
44 Like Fleemings we'll fight, or like Fleemings we'll fall,, 
Our country from thraldom, from slav'ry, and chaius, 
To rescue, we'll drain the last drop in our veins." 

Nine times had revolved the bright lamp of day, 
When Edward's Inge army in battle array, 

• Tlie Kirtle, at a small distance below Redhall, empties itself art© 
the Solv. ay Firth. 



139 



Advanced on the Kirtle, their swords gJeam'd afar— ~- , 
The Borderers to meet them rush on to the war. 

Like lions they fought— bat who could withstand, 
When Edward attack'd with so numerous a band \. 
Their kinsmen in arms, from the field fled arcain, 
Where groaned the wounded, and pale lay the slain. 

The over match' d Fleemings escapM to the Tow%, 
Pursu'd and besiegM by Anglesian pow'r, 
The wood of the Kirtle, in many a layer, 
They pii'd round the wall to reduce it by fire. 

The pjllars of smoke like a dense sable cloud, 
Envelop'd the Tow'r from the green branchy wood, 
The combustible matter within caus'd to burn — 
A pile for the Fleemings — the Tow'r for their urn. 

The dread conflagration the Border shone thorough, 
The fate of the Fleemings bath'd many in sorrow 
Reduc'd with the pile* to extirpate the name, 
But their spirits took flight on the wings of the flame. 

The spring may return, and the flow'rs bud anew — 
The lily may ope its fair breast to the dew — 
The woods may rejoice in their wild warbling strain, 
But the Kirtle will mourn for her Borderers slain. 



* The Fleemings to the number of 30, were consumed by the fire. 



140 



The harvest may bend to the glad reaper's hand, 

The heart of the farmer with joy may expand, 

But the Fleeming's* drear urn with rank grass will wave. 

And sigh to the wind the sad fate of the brave. 



LINES 

On opening the neiv splendid Gothic Church of Sanquhar. . . 

Hail ! holy day, the first of all the seven, 
Bestow'd on mankind as a day of rest, 

To imitate the glorious lays of heaven , 

And blend their anthems with the truly blesk 

On wings of faith our souls would soar above 
The grovelling scenes of this terraqueous ball, 

And catch a spark from the great source of love, 
Where our Tmmanuel reigns the All in All. 

The church triumphant dwelt like us below ; 

When time was young her song triumphant rose 
To Him who spans the heavens with his bow, 

And from whose love eternal mercy flows. 



* TheFleemiDgs, resided in the parish of Kirkpatrick-Fleeming, from 
vhcm it derives its nan?e. They revered themselves illustrious in Scot- 
tish history, by their firm altacbmem to (he independence of their coun- 
try, acd by their adherence to the Ito; ;-.i fcanly of Bruce, 



141 

The Architect supreme of heav'n and earth/ 
Who led his people all the days of old, 

To architects and pastors still gives birth, 
To rear his temples and his word unfold. 

And now, O Sanquhar! let thy heart be glad : 
Thy hallow'd temple fair salutes the eye ; 

With saving knowledge let thy priests be clad 
And thine own people, shout aloud for joy, 

THE BACHELOR'S SOLILOQUY. 

When Dominies had ceas'd to rule, 
And playful schoolboys fled the school ? 
I roy'd abroad, one evening cool, 

Devoid of care. 
Along the margin of a pool, 

To take the air. 

The bloom bloom'd bonny on the pea — 
The lint-beil, blue, shone bonnilie — 
The sun was verging to the sea, 

Or western main, 
In gold arraying tow'r and tree, 

And flow'ry plain. 

Hard by a ruln'd castle, grey, 
Which caught the last declining ray^ 



142 

Tho* not directly in toy way, 

1 thither steer'd, 

When lo ! this strange soliloquy 
I overheard. 

With cautions step, and silent tread. 
Towards a vaulted cell I made ; 
Dame Echo faithfully conveyed, 

By way of jeer, 
.Whatever the unseen speaker said, 

As noted here. 

k< Erewhile my hair, sae black and sleeky 
Waves hoary on my skinny cheek, 
Th gusty wind, and sooty smeek 

The hoast provokes ; 
Once sturdy bearers, truth to speak, 

Are sma 1 as rocks. 

My frosty pow is waxen bald, 

My vera bluid gr.»wn thin and cauld, 

A winsome wenchie to enfauld, 

Might cherish me, 
But then I dread her wicked scald, 

And dearth fu' tea. 

Besides a straw, and silken bonnet, 
VVi 1 ribbons round, and knots upon it ; 
Spring-heelM boots, and gowns I know not 
How braw, how mony ; 



143 

Pelisses trimm'd with fur and velvet, 

Baith fine and bonnie. 

Fate, of my parents, me bereft 

When young— and turn'd me out adrift, 

Upon the world's waves to shift, 

In open boat ; 
To herd some years seem'd a' was left 

To keep afloat. 

Lang I've stumpl'd o'er the furrow — 
Lang pursu'd the pleugh and barrow — 
Lang in Mennock glens, sae narrow, 

The cart I've driven ; 
Lang ye' 11 seek to find my marrow, 

For care and savin'. 

Tho' ance I was a clever chield, 
I'm now o'erta'en by crazy eild, 
And frae the blast mysel' to shield, 

I'm forc'd to jouk, 
And pickle in the bachelor's bield, 

My ain pouk neuk. 

My houses three I can survey, 
Sax lums are reeking every day ; 
For sov'reings I ha'e coup'd away 

Some guid bank notcs- 
The yellow gowd appears mair gay, 

And never rots. 



144 

The gay gowd has a thousand charm?, 
The thought o't a' my bosom warms, 
Nae glaikit she shall fill my arras, 

I'll hug my pelf; 
A weel barr'd door a' fear disarms, 

I'll lie myself. 

Some fouk attack me jeeringly, 
And tell me I should multiply 
Upon the earth — but what care T, 

In turn I taunt ""em ; 
Those that have offspring come awry, 

Would rather want 'em. 

Anon, anon, they'll at me speer, 
What w ill ye mak' o' a' your gear, 
W ? ha's nouther wife, nor son, nor heir 

To leave it to; 
My answer's pat — * O never fear, 

I've heirs enou\ 

The R P- — shall be my father, 

His prudent spoase shall be my mother. 
Each member shall be sister, brother, 

And legatee, — 
They're welcome to it a' thegither, 

When ance I die." 

Thus having will'd his goods and gear, 
By silver Luna's light sae clear, 



115 

I saw a figure pass me near, 

His pathway keep % 
Aiblens he might hameward steer, 

To take a sleep. 

My raptur*d eye new scenes survey'd, 
A Burns or Scott could well pourtray'd, 
And as I slowly homewards stray 'd, 

My gratefu' breast 
To nature*s Author rev'rence paid, 

Then sunk to rest. 



TO MR T , Holm, 

GAMEKEEPER TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE ORBUCCLEtfCH 
AND QUEENSBERRY, 

On his killing game, per order, for his Majesty's table, on his 
arrival in Scotland. 



Round and round the Nobles thronging, 
Scotia's beauties close the ring, 

Every heart and eye is longing 
To approach their Sov'reign King. 

At his levee, eager watching, 
Every look and manner bland, 

Some th' auspicious moment catching, 
To kiss their gracious Sov'reign's hand. 

N 



146 

Ye have speel'd the braes o' honour, 
Held to view and lasting fame, 

To aid the treat or Royal dinner, 
Kiird the black and speckl'd game. 

On his arrival at Edina, 

There to grace the splendid board, 
Array'd in all the form of shaw, 

What our moors and heaths afford ; 

Aft you 5 ve kill'd for Duke and Squire, 
Those adorn'd in star and string, 

Now, sportsman for a nation's Sire, 
England, Scotland, Erin's King, 

Other sportsmen may succeed you, 
Yont the Forth and braes o' Ctyde ; 

Partial fate gi'es you the lead now, 
Over Scotia braid and wide. 

Little doubt but they'll envy ye, 
Baith into the south and north ; 

When, O when, will they come nigh ye 
In killing game for George the Fourth. 

Eke your pointer, much caressed, 
No ane dares him to displease ; 

W hen by length of days oppressed, 
He may live and lie at ease. 



I 



147 

Down the tide of time is flowing^ 

Ages that will soon be gone, 
Some 'mang other nick-nacks showing 

Mr T n's favourite gun. 

The vera horn that held the pouther, 

Siller ca\ and bag for game, 
Slung around the sportsman's shouther, 

Aften .borne in triumph hame. 

Lang will heath-clad lofty Louther 

Shed the halo o' its fame;. 
Sportsman tell a sportsman brother, 

Here was kiird the Royal game. 

TO MY OLD SHOES, 

In which I had travelled soliciting Subscribers, and delivering 
the first Edition of my Poetical Volume, 

The best of friends beneath the sun, 
Maun part when life's short race is run, 
So you and I at last maun part, 
Although it grieves my very heart. 
O ! could some Cork but find the way 
To make you young, and spruce, and gay, 
Through life wi' you I'd gladly range^ 
Nor for the sake o* fashion change, - 
* 2 



us 

But whist, I bear a whisper saft : 
Says Crispin, this would spoil the craft : 
W hat would you make o' belles and beaux,. 
Who buy so many pair o' shoes, 
Not for the wear, but for the fashion, 
At bails and plays and op'ras dashing? 
E'en boots throughout this happy nation, 
Are worn by a kin kind o' station ; 
By rich and poor, from Geordie's seT, 
To him that tugs the steeple bell : 
And groaning stalls, at raony a fair, 
\YT shoes heap'd up like common ware ; 
Tho' unsevendal, slim, and slight, 
They're coft by fouk wi' purses light, 
Or light o 1 sense, and o'er nice 
To pay for better shoes a price ; 
Tho 1 in a month they should be done, 
Meantime they're a new pair o' shoon. 
The stoutest shoes that cau be made, 
Are but a drawback on the trade ; 
Keek on their soles, and soon ye'll learn, 
The half o 1 tbem are made o' aim, 
Wi' clouts ahin', and clouts afore, 
And tackets, twa-tbree double score ; 
>or a 1 their weight, and a' their pitb, 
They're much behaudeu to the smith. 

Thus having said, his story ended, 
So I'll relate as pre-intended. 



149 

Some bards have sung of horse and kye, 
Of flocks o' sheep, and things forbye *, 
Some of their coat, some of their hat, 
And some of ihiss and some of that; 
To join the hive and raise a croon, 
I mean to sing a pair o' shoon* 

Nine months are come and gone complete, 
Sin' first ye grac'd my clumsy feet, 
Twa thousand miles in you I've trode, 
Owre mony an ill-shool'd rugged road ; 
Where'er dame Fortune might require, 
I've trode themaisto' Dumfries-shire. 

Nae better uppers, made o' calf, 
Could from a hide be shapen aff; 
Your inner soles and welts, 1 trow, 
Were ne'er repaired sin' they were new ; 
Your outer soles, thoogh good, alas ! 
Were fairly through in baith the taes, 
When Crispin's son, a tradesman clever, 
Soon made my shoes as good as ever. 
Twice toepiee'd, and twice sol'd to boot, 
This got a cap, and that a clout, 
Wi 1 sparables around the toes, 
To fend frae sad unsonsy blows. 

In mirk night maist ye had to dree 
Frae hillocks, stanes, and foul dub e'e^ 
N 3 



UQ 

Ere I could gain a lodging place 
Ye oft were in a wofu' case : 
Yet at the lang ran, name at last, 
We jouk beneath the winter blast. 

Be't known to all baith near and far, 

That ye were made by A w K , 

From Crispin's line descended down, 
A laird in Sanquhar's borough town, 
A Cork that lang has stood the test, 
For boots and shoes the vera best. 

AN EPISTLE TO JOHN JOHNSTONE, 

A BROTHER POET. 



July 12th, 182a 

Dear Johnstone, 
Lang time has your bash f if spirit 

Like a cloud obscur'd the light, 
Now shine forth intrinsic merit, 

In poetic lustre bright. 

Sound, ye rocky linns o' Corrie, 

Echo bear the notes alang, 
Other streamlets catch the story, 

And repeat the poet's sang. 



151 

Simmer breezes waft the sonnet 

Over distant bill and plain, 
Fouks exclaim, your name who know not, 

Weels me o' his cantie strain. 

Of your early subjects, Johnnie, 
Sometimes I ha'e got a screed, 

Doubtless now ye ha'e got mony, 
And on mony a different head. 

Your prospectus I regarded 
With a rhyming brother's eye, 

A' your toil will be rewarded 
With the catter bye-and-bye. 

Just applause by far is dearer, 
Fanning bright the muse's flame, 

To a poet's heart gaes nearer, 
Leaves behind a deathless name. 

Oh ! what now ye maun be tholin 1 , 
Hopes and fears alternate burn, 

Crabbit critics pickin* holes in 
Ilka page they overturn. 

Never mind them, brother Johnnie, 

Envy may her venom spue. 
Gentle swains and lasses bonnie, 

Will bestow the praises due. 



152 

Likewise fouk o' higher station, 

Twist the wreath to busk your brow ; 

At their earnest invitation, 
Ye become an author now. 

Then let girnin' envy wallop 

In a tether made o' hair ; 
While Pegasus on can gallop, 

Frae them ye ha'e naught to feac 

Doubtless now ye're vera busy, 
Righting a' things for the press, 

Sin' your muse is sennil lazy, 
Twa-three lines to me address. 

Now I'll end this dull epistle, 

Dight my pen and throw it Ly, 
Blunted and'worn near the gristle, 

Your's unfeign'd— JAMES KENNEDY. 



POSTSCRIPT. 

T Tis lang time since we met tbcgithcr. 

Alein'ry may hae lost her pith, 
And quite forgot a poet brither 

Cast on bonnie winding Nith. 



133 

On the banks of Dryfe sae thymy, 
Life lit up this mortal clay, 

In the flow'ry season prime, I 
There in fancy lonely stray. 

May your valleys smile by dressing, 
Flocks adorn the heathy fell, 

Ilka blessing worth possessing,. 
Swell the lot of Annandale. 



A SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR'S JOURNET 

(WHILST SOLICITING SUBSCRIBERS,) 

From Whithorn to Port-William, on the 31st of May, 1824, being 
' the day succeeding the late seasonable rain. 

The thirsty ground by early rain, 
Makes Nature's face look gay again, 
The flow 'rets wild, of various hue, 
Expand their leaves to kiss the dew, 
The tuneful tribes, with cheerful voice, 
Make hill and vale and wood rejoice ; 
Along the heath the wild curlews 
Their one unvaried note pursues ; 
The air- borne lark pours forth her song, 
And cheers me as I trade along; 



154 

The prickly whins in yeflow bloom; 
Fling on the gale a sweet perfume* 

My Port bound path as I pursue, 
The mist hangs on the ocean blue, 
On nearing which, I hear the roar 
Of surges lash theshelvy shore, 
While on ray ravish'd optics pours 
The fair Monreith's high splendid tow'rs, 
The allies green, the gardens gay, 
Bloom forth in all the prjde of May, 
Causd me exclaim, though far from home. 
At peace and pleasure here I roam. 

The galley slave lashed to the oar, 
Who plows the rippling surges hoar; 
The dungeon prisoner gall'd with chains, 
Where misery and darkness reigns; 
The victim who may keenly feel 
The torture of the racking wheel, 
With thousands more whom I might quote, 
Compar'd with those how bless'd my lot, 

Thou meek-ey'd maid, do thou. extend 

To climes afar tuy olive wand, 

Till peace and freedom reisfn o'er all 

The sea and this terraqueous bail. 

I deem I hear some seraph's song, 

The time will come, and come ere long. 



us 



' The gladdening jub'lee's bell shall toll, 
And freedom reign from pole to pole. 



VERSES 

On the Author's recovering a Copy of Ferguson's Poems, ivlnch he 
had lost for some years. 

O welcome, thrice welcome, and where hast thou been ? 
I'm happy to see thee and call thee my ain, 
By absence endeared, now brought to my view 
But how alter'd tby state, and how alter'd thy hue. 

Since lent to a lady now sleeping tranquil, 
Where'er thou hast been they have used thee ill, 
All tatter'd thy pages, of cover bereft, 
The moths have sore riddled the remnant that's left. 

Tn some dusty garret, 'mang phamphlets and plays, 
Alas! thou hast draggM out thy lone absent days, 
Where no breath of air the cobwebs were strewin', 
Disturbing the book-worm to keep thee from ruin. 

A young thoughtless Wench with a long sweeping broom, 
Of dust and of trashtry the garret to toom, 
With prison companions thee tossed amain 
To a dyke side, exposed to wind and to rain. 






156 

A brave son of Mars by chance passing by, 

A sight so uncommon attracted his eye, 

Oh ! what can they be that are cast here in scorn, 

Dishonour'd, disordered, so tatter'd and torn. 

On snatching thee up, and on viewing thy page, 
What sorrow, quoth he, once the pride of the age. 
Whom Burns so applauded, with plaudits so due, 
If guided by any 'twas a thread from thy clue. 

Thy author, thy author, reflection how fell! 
Was latterly doom'd in a garret to dwell, 
Till death in compassion there ended bis days : 
Thus fell the young bard to Edina's dispraise. 

The volume in question new clothing shall get, 
Nor foul thumb to stain it, nor book- worm to fret, 
'Mang kindred poems it sprucely shall stand, 
As dear to my heart, and as nigh to nay hand. 



EPISTLE TO JAMES KENNEDY, SANQUHAR, 

On Reading the First Edition of his Poems and Songs, published 
in September, 1823. 



Sleep on my Muse, nor wake again, 
Since Nitha's Bard's ta'en up the pen, 






157 

And sings sae sweet, in canty strain, 

His rural lays, 
Till ilka river, hill, and plain, 

Resounds his praise. 

She halflins wak'd an 1 rubb'd her een/ 
And said, though dormant I hae been, 
A last effort to write my frien' 

I'll doubtless mak', 
But dull and dour I'm grown, I ween,' 

This some time back. 

When first I got the welcome hint, 
That ye had shown your name in print ; 
I vow'd, tho 1 poortith should me stint, 

And haud me down, 
I'd hae a copy, could I fin't 

In a' the town. 

Which when I got, I read and said, 
Is Fergj* risen from the dead, 
Or hae ye found a wally screed 

CT Burns's mantle, 
Since in his favourite verse indeed 

Ye write a hantle. 

Your Black-Facd Ewie took mye'e; 
'Tis nature to a vera tee, 

* Robert Fergusson. 
O 



158 

And Clerkan Mungies funeral spree, 
Ye touch it gran 1 ; 

Sic shines as it should banish'd be 
Frae out the Ian*. 

Your story of the Algerine 

Teems with revenge baith fell an" keen. 

Yet disappointed was, I ween, 

O's deadly hate, 
Which proves a mighty arm unseen, 

Directs our late. 

There's ane aboon them pleases most 
Brave Wallace, Scotia's pride an' boast, 
Wha' freed «s frae a plund'ring host 

O' SoutlTron foes, 
An' brought our country, erst sae cross't, 

A calm repose. 

What Scotchman then at Wallace name, 
But feels his heart's blood in a flame, 
To hear the glorious deeds an' fame 

Of him we mourn, 
And those who play'd yon matchless game 

At fiannockburn. 

Your good Fit z James wha liv'd in yore, 
Wha dearly lo'ed a random splore, 
An* rural nature valuM more 

Than Scottish throne, 



159 

A sturdy frien' he found, I'm sure, 
In thresher John. 

A lesson learn from this, ye great. 
Though ye may toll in wealth an 1 state, 
The King may cross the cadger's gate, 

For aught ye ken, 
Then dinna spurn or derogate 

Your fellow men. 

The Fleemings' fate I've often mourn'd, 
Whose breasts with martial ardour burn'd, 
And oft the tide of battle turn'd 

With force but sma', 
On Kirtle's vale lies low inurn'd 

In fam'd Red- ha'. 

Ye bards on Kirtle join the strain, 
And weep our gallant Bord'rers slain, 
Who Edward held in high disdain, 

And all his power, 
Their deeds heroic shall remain, 

Till latest hour. 

The Plough heroic valour wears, 
Of deeds were done in former years; 
The Elliock Wood ilk rustic cheers, 

While crooning at her, 
But nane excites my hopes an' fears 

Like Annan Water* 



160 

The Banks o 1 Wamphray rins fu* sweet. 
Davie's Farewell is most complete, 
The Western Lassie, O how neat ! 

And face saebonnie,. 
She might, I think, a sister greet 

In Eastern Jenny. 

Life's Waning Moon might courage gi'e 
To wooers, tho' twa score or three ; 
Mourn a 1 ye fair round Eldtrslie, 

Yon scene of woe, 
But Faithless Ann I'll no forgie, 

She wrang'd her joe. 

Although I've notie'd but a few, 
To slight the rest 'tis no my view, 
In short, to gie ilk piece its due, 

They're really grand : 
But to conclude, 'tis time I trow, 

Yours to command. 

Gatehouse, MayZitk, 1824. J. K. 



lei 



SOIVGS. 



THE PLOUGH. 

Am~—Belleis!e's March, or Plains of Kildare. 

When the sound of the shell arose in the hall, 
Ja praise of our heroes in the days of Fingal, 
The fair touch'd the string to the notes of the bard, 
And fame told the tale as the hero's reward* 

Ere our deep spreading woods were fell'd and laid low, 
Or our fine fertile valleys were til I'd by the plough, 
Or the king of the forest gave way to the axe, 
Or Scotia was faraM as the island of cakes : 

Our ancient forefathers, auld Scotia to guard, 
Maintained their rights at the point of the swerfl ; 
A band, firm united, by heroes led on, 
Their prowess descending from father to son. 

When the Danish invaders had darkened our coasf, 
And the thin ranks of Scotia gave way to their host,. 
The feelings of Hay, at the plough they provoke, 
Who loosed his oxen> and seized the yoke, 
o 3 



162 



The sons of brave Hay to the nnmber of two, 
Left the slow-moving oxen and glebe-turning plough, 
To join the Scotch standard — there counseled to stay ; 
Their sire, as General, led on the array. 

To the field of Luncarty they marchM back again, 
And fought till their foemen lay stretch'd on the plain *, 
But few left surviving to plough the blue wave, 
The Scots bore the palm, and gave Denmark a grave. 

So Kenneth the Third to reward the brave Hay, 
Made him Laird of Kinnoul, on the banks of the Tay ; 
By this 1 tis apparent what valour can do, 
A Scots Cincinnatus may spring from the plough. 

Sweet Coila, her mantle inspiring she threw 
O'er Burns, the immortal, while holding the plough. 
Who sang her clear streamlets, her woodlands and plains, 
Her peerless fair dames, and her gentle young swains ; 

Of Wallace the brave, on the banks of the Clyde, 
At the deep linn of Cora, musM eyeing the tide ; 
From the foaming cascade, unhurt, rose a tree, 
CausM the hero exclaim, " May not Scotland be free?"' 

The Scots they are hardy, and valiant, and true, 
No son of the south shall our island subJue ; 
Still gentle in peace, Lut a lion in war, 
And freedom, dear Treeaom, will urge us to dare. 



163 



Thus spoke the brave hero, and brand ish'd his sword ; 
The feats of his arm are the test of his word : 
Tho 1 Graeme, Brace, and Wallace, now sleep in their urns. 
Their fame shall extend like the mem'ry of Burns. 

When Bonny from exile returned again 
Extending his legions o'er Waterloo plain, 
By one desp'rate effort his foes thought to foil, 
And reap the rich harvest of wars weary toil ; 

For three days successive the battle had raged, 
And army with army were hotly engaged, 
When the Lion of Scotland burst 'sunder his chain, 
And Gallia's proud Eagle sunk low on the plain. 

May the culture of France employ her son's care, 
The sword to give way to the shining plough-share. 
To conclude, let us drink every Scotchman that's true, 
" Long life to King George, and success to the plough." 



THE BANKS OF WAMPIIRAY. 

Am — Humours o' Glen. 
Beneath the green hazel the clear stream is playing 

Its woods, banks, and rocks, it doth dashingly lave, 
Adown by the garden of Leithen-ha' straying, 

Hard by the fam'd Castle of Johnstone the brave. 
J3y the mound where the wine cup our Chieftain has bended,, 

Ere Scotia's fam'd Thistle shook hands with the Rose, 
Against all intruders their rights they defended — 

In the red roiling strife oft their glory arose. 



161 



Beneath the white hawthorn I met wp my Mary, 

And night her dark plaidie around us had thrawn, 
The tales o' our love kept our young bosoms cheerie, 

And time danced by till the morning's grey dawn. 
We lovingly stray'd by yon green hazel bowers, 

Our carpet o* nature— the saft dewy green — 
Enrich'd and perfumM by the sweet scented flowers — j 

The cowslip and daisy enhanced the scene. 

And near a sweet brier, on a bank we reclined, 

Our love-heaving bosoms with extacy play'd, 
As round my dear lassie my arms I entwined, 

And kiss'd her sweet lips on the banks as we laid. 
Donald may boast 6* bis hills o* red heather, 

And Sandy may boast o* his valleys o' corn, — 
But when wi' my Mary at e'en I forgather, 

I'm happier by far than the King on the throne. 

THE BONNIE LAsS O' ANNAN WATER. 

Am— Galla Water. 
The fairest, by bewitching love, 

Gars a' my heartie pitter jatter, 
And sets my bosom a' on flame. 

The bonnie lass o 1 Annan water. 

For her I'd face the wind and rain, 

Though star nor streamer light should scatter, 

The eeriest road I'd gang my lane, 
To meet the lass o' Annan water. 



165 

Though Hopetoun's lands were a* my am, 
The flocks and herds to mend the matter* 

I'd share them a* wi' lovely she, 
The bonnie lass o f Annan water. 

My lass has nouther gowd nor gear — 
A faithful heart is a' her tocher ; 

To gain them baith I'd gladly toil, 
If she were mine on Annan water. 

Tarn Beau rides on his gelding grey, 

To woo Miss Land — and thinks to get her ; 

But when will a* her rigs compare 
With my dear lass on Annan water. 

DAVTES FAREWELL. 

Air — Yellow-hair' d Laddie. 
Farewell thou green valley and deep spreading grove, 
Where oft with my charmer I wonted to rove ; 
Ye flow'r-scented meadows, and Annan's clear stream, 
Where life's early morning slid by as a dream. 
Farewell ye gay swains, and blythe bleating flocks, 
Thou stately Mount-Annan, and moss-tufted rocks ; 
Ye lovely young nymphs — but my own dearest Nell, 
Oh ! how shall I leave thee, and bid thee farewell. 

With pleasure I think on the green flowery lee, 
Where, pouin' the gowans, I've wand'red with thee ; 
With pleasure I combed and braided thy hair, 
And deck'd thy fair bosom with flow'rets so rare. 



166 

Thou charming fair creature I've now left behind, 
Though absent in body, still present in mind ; 
In dreams 1 embrace thee, when sank iuto rest, 
As my head lies reclin'd on thy love-heaving breast. 

Though England's fair dames be as pure as the snaw 
On the mist mantl'd Skiddaw, when storms loudly blaw, 
My heart will be cold as the snow- wreathed stone ; 
My Nelly, unrivall'd, shall reign there alone. 
Ye Pow'rs, smile propitious! give Davie to know 
The heightened pleasures from wedlock that flow ; 
Come weal or come wae, to my vow I'll be true, 
Till I bid to the world and my Nelly adieu. 



THE BONNIE LASS O' THE WEST KINTRIE. 

Am— White Cockade. 
Some tempt the dangerous stormy main, 
Pursuing honour, wealth, and gain ; 
The flow'r of a' that's dear to me, 
Is the bonny lass o' the west kintrie. 
Her hair is blacker than the sloe, 
Her skin is whiter than the snow, 
Her teeth outvie the ivory, 
The bonny lass o' the west kintrie. 

Her cheeks are of the cherry dye, 
The diamond's blaze, her sparkling eye ; 
Her ruby lips how sweet to pree, 
The bonny lass o* the west kintrie : 



167 

fler breath is like the scented gale, 
Her voice is like the nightingale— 
When rais'd in song, enchanteth me, 
The bonnie lass in the west kintrie. 

It's no her face sae sweet and fair, 
It's no her mien and handsome air, 
Her flow of wit enticeth me, 
The bonny lass i' the west kintrie. 
Though fortune calls her now away, 
To shine amang the beauties gay — 
Ye pow'rs protect — return to me 
The bonny lass V the west kintrie. 

No jealous pang my heart can move, 
Nor dread a rival in my love, 
I Ml hail the day brings back to me 
The bonny lass i' the west kintrie. 
Though. I had all Montgomery's land, 
A coach and four at my command, 
I'd share them a' wi' lovely she, 
The bonny lass i' the west kintrie. 

EASTERN JENNY. 
Air— My love is lost to me. 
My Jenny's young, and blythe, and gay, 
Sweet as the scented thorn in May, 
Her ilka gait, her ilka way, 

To me new charms discover : 



168 

Iter native grace, her native ease, 
Sae artless, have the art to please, 
Love's pithy bands my bosom sei/e, 
And bind me as her lover. 

To see her trip ou tow re the green, 
Her leg sae taper, neat, and clean, 
What poets sing of Beauty's Queen 

In her I can discover ; 
Her frame sae neat, her waist sae sma , J 
Her skin is like the driven snaw, 
Her slae black hair in ringlets fa', 

And wave on ilka shouther. 

Her sparkling een are bonnie blue, 
Her eye-brows of the darkish hue, 
Her ruby lips, and smirking raou 1 , 

Might tempt the roguish rover ; 
Her teeth are like the ivory white, 
The rose and lily both unite 
Upon her cheek — she's my delight — ■ 

I canna cease to love her, 

Tho* a* thogold were brought to view. 
Of Mexico and fam'd Peru, 
My Jenny's peerless shape and hue 
To me more charms discover ; 
I covet no imperial crown, 
Nor envy those on beds of down, 



169 

If Jenny I may ca' my own, 
A constant faithfu* lover. 

My heart within my bosom warms, 
When T enfauld her in my arms, 
Or gaze upon her matchless charms, 

My vera heart-strings quiver. 
Ye wha o'er lover's lots preside, 
Grant eastern Jenny for my bride — 
Till death shall stem life's purple tide 

I'll never cease to love her. 



THE SNAW ON MENNOCK GLEN LIES DEEP. 

The snaw on Mennock glen lies deep, 
And a' the Loather hills arecoored, 

Oh ! waes me for my harmless sheep, 
Drifted deep "and raaistly smoored. 

What tho' they had been smoored a', 
Wi' them I eithly could hae parted ; 

But faithless Annie's gane awa' 

WT Jock, and left me broken hearted. 

O shall I climb the craggy steep, 
That overhangs the banks sae briery, 

And cast me headlong in the deep, 

That toils beneath sae dark and dreary : 



170 

Or shall 1 seek a foreign shore, 
Honour's pall in strife pursuing, 

Where bugles sing and cannons roar, 
And mix me with the field of ruin. 

On taming round, a friend I spied, 

Who with his counsel strove to cheer me; 

" Your hills with sheep may be supplied, 
So banish a 1 sic prospects dreary. 

On winter treads the smiling spring*, 

When Flora decks each vale and glennie, 
On ilka bough the birds will sing, 
And you may court another Annie." 

<o^*^o> 

THE FLOWER OF THE SOLWAY. 
From Paisley to Annan on a visit I came, 
Where my heart was enthralM by a beautiful dame ; 
Her cheeks are like roses, her neck like the snow; 
Her fine raven tresses o'er her broad shoulders flow, 

Her eyes are like diamonds from Indian mine — 
Her teeth like the ivory, so polishM and fine — 
Her breath like the gale from Arabian grove — 
Her voice like soft music in accents of love. — 

Of countenance, comely — of statare, she's tall ; 
She's jimp in the middle, And handsome withal ; 
Her mien so engaging in every degree, 
She's the flow'r of the Solway and peerless to me. 



171 



As we wander 'd alone by yon river so clear, 
The time fled on wings—with my own dearest dear, 
Entranced we reclin'd 'neath yon broad beecben tree, 
Interchanging our vows till the sun kiss'd the sea. 

With consent of her parents Mess John joinM our hands, 
And link'd us together in Hymen's soft bands; — 
Of my own dearest jewel I now am possess'd, 
While mutual affection glows warm in each breast. 

We called a carriage, and rolled away, 

Vntill we arrived at bonny Paisley, 

Where wealth and contentment, as blessings, preside j 

Success to all lovers who make virtue their guide. 

ELLIOCK WOOD SAE BONNIE O. 

Am — Gloomy Winter's now awa. 
dentin" o'er Dalpedder hills, 
Phcebus tinges Elliock rills; 
Music sweet the valley fills 

From featherM songsters mony O J 
JBath'd in dew, each virgin blade 
Hangs its shining, speary head ; 
Cushats coo adown the glade 

In Elliock wood sae bonny O! 
Trees in lengthen'd, devious line — 
Spreading oak and lofty pine- 
Round their trunks the woodbines twine, 

In Elliock wood sae bonny O ! 
p % 



1T2 

Violets rife, their gems disclose, 

Sisters to the pale primrose; 

Wi' mony a bashfu 1 flower that blows 

Unseen, unnam'd by ony O ! 
Roaming by yon lofty towers, 
In the sylvan* shady bowers 
Lovers spend the happy hours 

In Elliock wood sae bonny O ! 
'Neath the cool sequester'd shade, 
Near the foaming white cascade, 
There I met my winsome maid, 

In Elliock wood sae bonnie O ! 

Her heaving breast — the white sea- maw; 
Her cheek — the blude drap on the snaw ; 
Her breath — the scented gales that blaw 

In Elliock wood sae bonnie O! 
Ruby lips, and glancin* een, 
Flaxen hair, and gracefu' mien — 
Beauties rare in her convcue 

Thai's scarcely peer'd by ony O ! 
Trees may bloom and flow'rets b!aw, 
Burdies sing, \ihere waters fa', 
Nell's the fairest flower of a* 1 

In Elliock wood sae bonnie O ! 

BONNY MARY. OR THE GLEN O' GLENNAP. 

» Air — Get married as soon as you ecu. 

On travelling from Glasgow it feil to my bap, 
To meet a fair maid in the Glen o* Glennap, 



173 

I address'd ber most kindly io banish her fear, 
Oh where do you win, if a body may speer, 

A crimson effusion her cheeks deeper dy*d, 
In accents of mildness to me she replied, 
Afar up the glen, 'neath yon wood skirted fell, 
Stands my father's lone cot, the spot where I dwell. 

Tis a pity such beauty, such roses in bloom, 
Asa flow'r in the desert should waste its perfume ; 
Come answer me plainly, my darling, my joy, 
Pray what is your father, and what his employ ? 

The trade of a shepherd my father pursues, 

O'er ruuir, moss, and mountain he brusheth the dews, 

My mother and I are his care and delight, 

Tho' he toils all the day yet we cheer him at night. 

Of sons and of daughters beside me they've none, 
Which causeth them doat on their Mary alone ; 
In hunting for pleasure much riches are spent, 
But our cot may be termed the Cot of Content. 

Forego the lone cot in the glen that's afar, 
Come fancy a stranger and go to Stranraer, 
You lady shall be of my lands and my ha', 
With men and maid servants attending your ca\ 

In silks and ia satins you soon shall appear, 

Your board shall be stor'd with the choicest of cheer, 



m 

A carriage to air in. the country to view, 
Or a sail on Loch Ryan so placid and blue. 

For the red blooming heather perfuming the waste, 
For the ripen'd blaeberries, sae sweet to the taste, 
A gay fragrant garden saluting the eye, 
And the red juicy apples your thirst shall supply. 

If leaving your parents jour heart pain should give, 
At ease and at pleasure with us they may live, 
The object I sue for, my jewel, is this, 
Your hand and your heart as the copestone of bliss. 

Your proffers are gen'rous, your manners are bland, 
You've slawn my young heart, so I'll yield up my hand, 
Farewell to my parents, may peace be their hap, 
Farewell to the braes and the glen o" G lennap. 

KATY O' CASTLE WOODLEE. 

Am— Maid o J the Mill 
By yon shady grove I happen 'd to rove, 

And beard a fair maiden thus say, 
The pride o' our swains, \\V his love melting strains, 

Has stawn my young hearlie away : 

CHORUS. 

lias stawn my young heartie away, 
Has stawn my young heartie away. 
The pride o' our swains, wi' his love melting strains, 
Has stawn my young heartie away. 



17o 

His flock on the brae keen listen bis lay, 
The goats from the mountain forth bound 

To the brow of the hill, overlooking tae vale, 
To list the mellifluous sound. 
To list, &c. 

The cows in amaze, had ceased to graze, 
Stood motionless, thoughtful, and mute ; 

The little herd boy, in a frolic of joy, 
Wi' his dog danced time to his flute, 
Wi 1 his dog, &c. 

The burdies prolong the notes o' his song, 

So witchingly soft on my ear, 
The winds yielding sigh, the green woods reply, 

Fair' Katy. sweet Katy my dear. 

Fair Katy, &c. 

Oh I would be fain to match wi' the swain, 
Nor count him below my degree, 

And fondly believe not long I may grieve, 
Since I'm Katy o 1 Castle Woodiee. 
Since I'm Katy, &c. 

LIKF/S MOOX IS awaning. 

•Air — A Bock and a wee pickle Tow. 
Life's' moon is awaning — my bluid is grown cauld— 

My haffet locks too. are silvery gre — 
JUy pow sae Weel theikit, is now giowing bald, 

And bodily strength is fading away. 



176 

I grumble, I tumble, by night, on my bed ; 

To warm nae, and charm me, a rosy voting maid 
By nigh? and by day, still runs in my head ; 

Bat how for to woo I ken na the way. 

I've cows in the valley, and sheep on the fell, 

WV corn on (he croft, and meadow to maw — 
And these ye wou d think might act as a spe'l, 

Nae wooer on Nith speaks better ava. 
The thumping, the bumping, my bosom within, 

Asleeping, awaking, a glowing I fin'; 
,'Tis something like luve, or I'm sadly mistaken, 

Yet haiflma afleyed she answer me na. 

I stept to the hill on a fine simmer day, 

The view o' my flocks gae pleasure to roe ; 
By chance ray dear lassie came tborter my way, 

Set low to my heart wi 1 the blink o' her e>. 
1 kiss'd her, and bless'd her — she coloured and sigh'd ; 

Requested, insisted, she would be my bride; 
*' A fine pacing pony ye shall hae to ride. 

And ilka thing fitting that pleasure can gie. 

You mistress shall be of my sheep and my kye. 

My heart it is yours, sae gie me consent — 
Blink on your Johnnie, dear Matty comply, 

Wr love that's unfeigned, my woe to prevent.'" 
She knuckl'd, we buckled, our bliss for to crown — 

A callen, has fallen, when nine months came roun ; 
And nane lives sae happy in kintrie or town— __ 

We bless aye the day we met on the bent. 






ITT 

ESKDALE LOVELY JEAN. 

Air — Willie was a wanton wag. 

On purling Esk I musing stray'd, 

Enamour'd with the pleasing scene ; 
And there I met a lovely maid, 

The fairest e'er my eyes had seen. 
If I were laird of Eskdale a\ 

My love a maid of low degree, 
Nae gentle dame frae splendid ha'. 

Should ever turn my thoughts ajee. 

The laird may view his fleecy flocks 

On Esk's green banks, sae steep and hie ; 
To me mair dear the raven locks 

And blythesome blink o' Jeanie's e'e. 
His golden store may yet increase, 

And times roll round as they hae been ; 
My wealth lies in another place — 

I mean with lovely Eskdale Jean. 

Weel pleas'd he views his gardens gfay. 

And treads the flowVenameU'd green ; 
The fairest flow'r salutes the day, 

May blush, compar'd with lovely Jean. 
Tho' oft he mounts his dappl'd grey, 

And scours away to fair Carlisle, 
More frequent I in fancy stray. 

To meet my Jeanie's witching smile. 



ITS 

The life mate of his tender love, 

And blushing rose buds fair to see ; 
Points out what Jeanie yet may prove, 

When link'd in Hymen's silken tie. 
Fate shines propitious on my head, 

Let no cross purpose intervene, 
And grant to me the loveliest maid 

That treads the flow'ry Esk so green. 

THE BANKS OF YOCHAN. 

Air — Braes o' Balquither. 
Well met my dear Jean, on the banks o' woody Yochan, 

Where the high waterfa' forms a deep rocky bason ; 
Where the broad spreading oak o'er the white spray's ex- 
tending ; 
And the roar of the linn with the wild music's blending. 
From the cowslip and daisy, I will form thee a posy, 
And beneath the green shade. 1*11 recline on thy bosy \ 
As the queen of my choice, with a garland 1*11 dress thee,. 
To my love heaving bosom, my dearest, I'll press thee. 

Tho' the gardens of state have their shades, fruits, and. 

flowers, 
Give me the Yochan banks, and the fine sylvan bowers, 
Where the dams mooping stray, and the lambs sport the- 

gither 
On the green sloping braes, and the hills clad wi' heather. 
Tho* his Grace roll along in a gay gilded carriage, 
Yet I envy him not, give me Jeany in marriage— 
With my flock on the bent, with mj crook, plaid, & doggie, 
And Jeany to cheer me thro 1 life, I'll be vogie. 



179 



WALLACES LAMENT 

Over the body of his wife, basely slain by the detested Hazelrigg. 
Am— -The Maid of Arrochar. 
Thou flower of my bosom , how pale is thy hoe, 
Where the lilies and roses, once fair did combine ! 
Those eyes far excelled the bright morning dew ! 
Those lips once were redder and sweeter than wine! 
Oh woe to the day, and oh woe to the hour ! 

had I stay'd with thee, or thou gone with me, 
Thou might'st have avoided the fell tyrant's power, 
Tho' he'd burnt the strong castle of fair Eklerslie. 

My heart's wrung with anguish, and swelling with pain. 

On viewing that bosom, so lovely before — 

Now pierc'd by that traitor, and cruelly slain, 

And thy garments red dy'd from thy pure bosom's core* 

Not only thy figure appalls on ray si^ht, 

But the fruit of our love my affection doth crave, 

Who to life bids adieu, ere beholding the light, 

And must soon rest together in one bloody grave. 

1 swear by this blood, which hath dimmed the sheen 
Of this blade, lately piercing thy bosom of snow, 
That the same thirsty weapon, so fatally keen, 
Shall send the dark fiend to the mansions below ! 
Let Ihy shade be appeas'd, since the traitor is slain, 
His sword drinks the blood from his warm bosom's core ; 
The stain of his country, of Knighthood the stain, 
Hath met his desert, and lies writhing in gore. 



180 



BANKS OF THE CRAWICK. 

Air — Banks of the Dee. 
Now autumn waves yellow with rich loaden treasure, 
The pride of the seasons the crown of them a', 
As, woo'd by the moon light, I wander'd wi' pleasure 
Alone by the banks of the murmuring Craw. 
Sweet is thy murmur, while here I am straying, 
Bath"d in the streamlet the moon beam is playing; 
By reflection, thy banks in silver arraying, 
The haunt of my Johnnie that's now far awa. 

With pleasure I left the abode of my father, 
When toil lay supinely at nature's strong caV, 
Wi 1 my dearest Johnnie ay fain to forgather. 
And breathe out our loves on the banks of the Craw. 
3u our wonted retreat in the green wood sae shady. 
His arm, for my pillow, enwrapt in his plaidie ; 
Of future enjoyments, how happy be made me, 
Now blighted these hopes like a flow'ret on Craw. 

In tie loud din of war. where the bullets are flying 
Beneath a warm sun, at the bugle's shrill ca" 1 , 
Perhaps he may mix, while here I am sighing, 
Far, far from his love, and the banks of the Craw 
Ye stars, who preside o'er the fate of a lover, 
From dai.ger and death my dear Johnnie deliver, 
And grant his return, that nae mair he may sev^r 
From his faithtu' Su -, and the banks of the Craw. 



X M'L. Bruce, Printer, Dumfr 



X107 









5°* 







K: V** .' 3 



f **^^S$Al?%»* -3^ * &((f/v : 5' Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 




Vo V ,^ % 




Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnes 
Treatment Date: April 2009 



PreservationTechnologies I 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION ^ 
111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 






^ 
_*«* 



^ 






BOOKBINDING ■ O ^cZ() ) <&* O ^*, * 

Grantville. p a . ■ O * TV , • ,0 &* 




